


Walk the Path

by haku23



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-03 05:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10237010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23
Summary: With the decision of whether to rejoin Overwatch looming over his head and feelings for his teacher that might not be reciprocated, Genji is having a not great couple of months. Things are about to get worse before they get better.





	1. Chapter 1

“Ah, I wondered at where you might have gotten to, my student,” Zenyatta says before gently floating towards Genji, “shall we meditate?”

A human no-more and yet Genji still sometimes moves as one, telegraphing his emotions widely to anyone who might give him a second glance. Luckily in this case the one who most often does so is Zenyatta himself.

“I stepped within my old room and it was as if it welcomed me, Master,” he glances back in the direction of the Shimada’s stronghold as he says it, his hands curled into loose fists. His visor glows brighter in the steadily dimming light of sunset, both of their metal bodies now blending more easily into the surroundings without the bright rays of the midday sun.   

“It is no great mystery why you feel a kinship with that place, my student, a leaf may gaze fondly upon the very tree from which it fell no matter what the circumstances of its leaving.”

Genji tilts his head, “its _leaving_ , Master?”

“Ah,” Zenyatta chuckles, “I mean only that it is not unusual that an attachment remains. Do you require anything further here?”

“No, Master. I will show you another place, where we can be in the quiet,” his shoulders drop from their tense position as they leave the area, but his hands remain closed and Zenyatta does not ask just yet what might be the cause. Genji hides nothing from him, and will speak of his troubles in time so long as Zenyatta remains patient.

\--

The small park does indeed boast a heaping portion of quiet. With the trees blocking out the view of the sidewalk the impeccable stone pathway through them appears to exist within its own world wherein the fragrance of wisteria flourishes, the blooms of the trees hanging low enough for a careful hand to caress them. He does so, hovering only a few paces off of the path, and letting the flowers find their own way into his open palm.

“I used to bring all of my dates here,” Genji says from beside Zenyatta, himself refraining from touching anything and his hands still clenched as he stares at the maze of branches above them, “they were planted by my great-great-grandfather as a gift.”

“I can see why it is so popular, they must have been easily wooed while here.”

“Master.”

“I mean only that it is a beautiful place, and one cannot help but be overcome by the feeling of romance when they visit such places,” he carefully lets the cluster of flowers fall back to their previous position, “shall we walk the path?”

“It is not a long one, Master, but I will walk it with you.”

Here amongst the wisteria trees and lush, green grass they would make an odd pair to outsiders; two souls encased in metal, delighting in the natural world. Despite their surroundings though, no others walkers are in sight-human or Omnic.

“There is a pond beyond that path,” Genji points to the left fork in the path, “and that is the exit.”

“A pond, I would like to see that if you have no other plans for me, my student.”

“Plans-Master, you are teasing me.”

“I am,” he nods, his orbs dancing in delight, “I apologize.”

“Perhaps I do have other plans for you, Master.”

“Oh? I find myself quite agreeable.”

Genji laughs, unrestrained in a way he rarely shows as they turn down the path towards the pond. The sound mingles perfectly with the flowers and the soft singing of birds somewhere in the trees, “I have something for you.”

“A gift, I am quite wooed.”

“Master...” a hiss precludes a short burst of steam from his shoulders. He stops and opens his hands, revealing two egg shaped devices-one green and transparent and the other opaque white with pink buttons. His sensors tell him they lack viable batteries currently, but they still emit a field. “They are Tamagotchi-virtual pets. I used to keep them when I was a child, I thought you might enjoy them, though they will need new batteries.”

“Virtual pets-how interesting. Thank you, what a thoughtful gift,” he picks them up from Genji’s hands by the metallic keychains, both dangling from his fingertips as he regards them. The small screen shows nothing, of course, but he imagines what might be held there upon the application of the correct power source. They continue walking as he asks, “What shall I name them, or do they already have names?”

“Ah, well, their appearance differs depending on how well you care for them,” Genji looks at the Tamagotchi, “but I admit in my youth I often named the less attractive ones after my brother.”

“Ah, then I should wait to name them.”

“They belong to you, Master, whatever you wish.”

“I will wait. They may be upset if their name does not suit them.”

\--

After replacing the batteries the Tamagotchi come to life with twin beeps. Zenyatta lets out a delighted sound in response, and Genji smiles beneath his faceplate. They had been a chance find, and his hands had curled around them before he thought of doing otherwise.

“Welcome back to life, little ones. Have no fear, I will care for you now.”

Red text in the left of his vision warns him of the danger of overheating; his body a mess of flesh and metal still not entirely used to one another’s quirks though he has of late been seeing that warning more often. Typically where Zenyatta is involved. He vents some of the steam quietly, but his Master’s attention remains on the Tamagotchi thankfully.

“The green one is a newer model; it may have more features than the white one.”

“That is alright, a life’s worth is not determined by such things,” Zenyatta holds them both up; his expression is perpetually pleased looking but more so at this moment. Or maybe Genji projects his own desires onto him-either way, he keeps the thought to himself.

\--

Their stay in Hanamura completed the pair continue their pilgrimage. He doesn’t pretend to know where it might lead, and Zenyatta tells him they will know when they reach their destination. The message from Winston sits opened, read, and unanswered in his database and thoughts. The memories of Overwatch remain ever present in his mind since the Recall, but the idea of returning leaves him cold no matter who else makes up the team. His body is a weapon as much as his blades now, but only if he chooses; re-joining Overwatch guarantees the need to unsheathe both.

“You are deep in thought, my student.”

“Yes, Master.”

The calmness of mind he seeks retreats even further at the attention of his teacher. He sighs loudly, discontent despite the sparkling sea stretching out in all directions beyond the railings of the ferry. Before, he got seasick; now his stomach remains settled as though to mock his mind for its frenzied movements.   

Zenyatta softly sets his Tamagotchi down into the folds of his pants, “what burdens you?”

He reads over the text transcript of the message again, takes in Winston’s hopeful face as he asks them to come out of hiding, “Overwatch. I should return, and join my friends, and yet my mind is plagued with doubt. I am not the same man I was back then.”

“You have changed much from the man I met, yes. Does this question require an answer right away?”

“I do not know. Talon is a problem, and they are responsible for the death of Brother Mondatta. I should leap to prevent further trouble. But to get involved in this means becoming involved in another conflict.”

“You put unneeded pressure upon yourself, my student. If it does not require an answer at this moment then let it remain unanswered,” his hand comes to rest upon Genji’s shoulder, “not all conflicts are our own.”

“The honourable thing to do would be to join them.”

“Is it honour which motivates your decision, or justice?”

Anger rises within him like the dragon in his blood, but he allows the fire to spark and then burn out before he replies, “Should I ignore Talon, then, Master?”

“You may do as you like; not as you should. The choice is yours, whenever you choose to make it.”

He sighs and leans against the railing, “thank you, Master.”

One of the Tamagotchi beeps plaintively from its spot in Zenyatta’s pants and he picks it up, “ah, again.”

He glances over at the white toy. The pixelated creature dances in celebration in front of what is unmistakeably a pile of its own poop, “it poops a lot.”

“It poops as much as it needs to, and no more.”

“It celebrates it.”

“It delights in all experiences,” Zenyatta cradles it, turning away slightly as though protecting it from Genji’s criticism, “worry not, young one, my pupil merely teases.”

A smile pushes through his gloomy thoughts at the sight, “Have you decided its name?”

“Not yet, there is no need to rush such things.”

“You should name it Unchi.”

Zenyatta laughs, “I am not calling either of them ‘Poop’.”

“It is only a suggestion, Master.”

“Yes, of course, my student. Now, I believe we will be reaching our destination soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

Britain differs from the last time he visited; many more anti-Omnic signs have popped up, and the border employees had not hidden their glares when he and Zenyatta approached. Now they move through the streets together, the gaze of more than a few humans on them both though Zenyatta’s attention is on his Tamagotchi.

“Is that the leader? Didn’t someone off him?” someone whispers.

“Can’t be sure they’re dead unless you blow them up.”

“Should blow them all up if you ask me.”

He steers them towards the meeting place requested by their contact, a young Omnic seeking advice. Zenyatta spoke to them for the weeks before they reached the area, and now they wish to meet up with his Master; a request Zenyatta does not often ignore.

The meeting place is a church in the old part of town with tall stained glass windows, and a lit LED sign with the words “All are welcome” with the word “all” underlined and bolded. The bush lined courtyard is empty of patrons due to the hour. When they enter through the heavy wooden doors they see only an Omnic and a human woman amongst the orange glow of the candles and dark wood of the pews.

They stand when they enter and Zenyatta raises a hand in greeting, “good evening.”

“Master Zenyatta, it is a pleasure to meet you in person,” the Omnic’s face is smooth, but their expression is just as friendly in appearance as Zenyatta’s, “and you must be Genji.”

“A pleasure,” he nods at them.

“My partner, Becki” they gesture to the human woman, “I am afraid we do not have much room for small talk. As I relayed to Master Zenyatta, we fear that our home may no longer welcome us.”

“We saw the graffiti and signs; you have stayed so long, what has changed your mind?” he asks, unable to keep the question to himself.

“I am here to assist you in your move, worry not,” Zenyatta says as soon as he finishes speaking. A move, then something big must be happening, “the demonstration will not begin for another week; we are in possession of ample time.”

The couple sighs in relief just as something booms outside. Genji’s hand goes to his _Wakizashi_ at his hip but Zenyatta holds up a hand.

“No need to be so swift to act, my student. Please return to our accommodations via the back exit; I will join you shortly.”

The quick fire of a machine gun draws his attention next. With his reflexes he will be an asset should they come under fire of it, but Zenyatta tells him to go? Genji releases his hand from his sword and shakes his head, “I will stay with you, Master.”

“I must insist, Genji.”

“It really is all right; these days,” Becki takes a deep breath, “these days there’s always someone out causing a fuss a couple nights a week. It’s got bad, but the way the news talks it’s got bad everywhere.”

“We’ve thought of moving somewhere across the pond, but,” the Omnic says; they never gave a name, perhaps a deliberate move. Genji keeps the question to himself this time.

“Yes, we encountered some trouble with customs as well,” says Zenyatta, still unwaveringly calm. The outside goes quiet and he turns to Genji, “Genji?”

Zenyatta will tell him everything in time, he always does, but the unknown clouds his mind. If he leaves and something happens-the thought turns every one of his remaining organic parts cold. He nods, “as you wish, Master. Contact me should you require any assistance.”

“Yes of course. Thank you.”

He slips out the back door and thinks for a moment of simply waiting there in the dark for his Master but he pushes himself forward; Zenyatta holds his own power, he should not think of him as someone in need of protection. He should not think of him as his to lose.

\--

Despite the conflicts the city holds pleasant memories too. He and Lena dashing forward in an approximation of a race as Jesse McCree and Reinhardt took bets. She won, of course, but he took the game as a sign of a healthy relationship between the two factions of Overwatch rather than an actual competition. His brain supplies a clip of her laughing, breathless, and of Angela shaking her head as she says “when I said maintain a healthy lifestyle I didn’t mean you two tearing down the streets of King’s Row and scaring pigeons”.

He smiles at the memory; one of the brief moments he allowed himself a thought other than those of revenge to creep in. Overwatch played into those single-minded fantasies of taking his father’s empire down. They might do the same again if he returns; it may be his brother at the edge of his sword again, with Overwatch’s expectations attempting to force his hand.

He drops to the ground silently in an alleyway near to their hotel and steps out into the lighted street. Anti-Omnic signs swing from many of the businesses around the building, but not their hotel. Some are polite, others blunt and explicit in their hatred of anything deemed “non-organic lifeform”. He ignores them and heads inside.

The hotel differs greatly from the hotels he stayed at in his youth and in his time in Overwatch, but they only need a place to rest not a luxury experience. He approaches the counter where a young woman sits, idly tapping her finger against a computer mouse.

“Need somethin’?” she looks up then down then back up again, “reckon you had a helluva time finding accommodations.”

“It was not easy. I am checking in. The name is Zenyatta Tekhartha.”

“Like one of them monks? Don’t look like one of ‘em,” she stares pointedly at the hilt of his sword. He tips his head to the side in ascent.

“I am not Zenyatta, merely his student. He instructed me to check in for him.”

“You got any ID?”

“Ah. No.”

“Bit of a idiot, aren’t I? But we’ve not got much of you lot around since that Mondotta bloke got offed so guess I’ll just have to let you in, won’t I?” she turns to the screen and starts typing, “here we are. Right, so I’ll need a credit card or, whatever it is you plan on paying with.”

“I... Will have to return at a later time.”

“Now now, wait just a minute. Got a note here,” she murmurs it to herself as she reads, “guess I’m not to worry about that. Right, room 403.”

He takes the card and, bereft of pockets, holds it in his hands as he walks to the elevator and heads to the room. He swipes it once, twice as the door beeps and flashes red lights. Turns it around, swipes it again. The door beeps and flashes red. Genji blows a breath out his nose and swipes the card slowly. The door beeps and flashes red. He kneels in front of it.

“I would like for you to open when I swipe this card,” he says to the door mechanism, “please.”

He swipes the card quickly. The door beeps and flashes green. “Thank you, friend!”

His hand closes around the handle and-it holds fast. Genji groans, “I take it back.”

\--

“I will return in the morning, sleep well,” Zenyatta bids the couple farewell and begins his journey to the hotel. One of the Tamagotchi beeps and he slides his hand into his pocket and pulls both out. “Ah, Unchi, you again. And Hariyo; what will I do with you both?”

He floats along, engrossed in the care of them but not so engrossed that he misses the group of young humans following him. They wear hoodies pulled down over their faces, their temperatures rise the longer they tail him, and their whispers reach his ears. They have nothing particularly charitable to say about him or other Omnics. Metal scrapes on metal then on flesh. Some kind of weapon.

Not many others walk the streets; their caretakers might worry for the children, but perhaps they have no one. He monitors them and slips the Tamagotchi into his pocket once again. Footfalls alert him to their movements and he turns to meet them.

“Good evening. Can I help you?”

The smallest one stops and glances to their cohorts who continue towards him with their weapons raised. They say nothing; one of their hoods fall back revealing a young face, likely no older than 13.

“You there,” he addresses the child who hung back, “can you tell me the time?”

“Don’t talk to it, Sam!” the unhooded one snaps as they swings the bat. He allows it to slam into him though his sensors shriek alarms alerting him of slight damage to his outer shell. Nothing serious; the child will never have a career as a batter.

“Ouch,” he cries out anyway. He sees the child stop and his still hooded friend halt mid-swing.

“Quit it, we’re gonna get in trouble,” the smallest one yells out.

“It’s lying, it doesn’t feel pain!” the hooded one aims for his head. He falls to the ground, his hand going to his face. Still nothing too bad, but Genji might become upset if he shows up late _and_ injured; he must do what he can not to cause too much grief. “These _things_ killed my brother! Told you both, or am I gonna have to do everything myself?”

The other two look at each other. The bat hangs at the child’s side.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he says softly, “though I know that it will not bring your brother back.”

“Shut up, machine!”

“Alex, let’s just go round Ralph’s and play some games, yeah?”

“If you pussies want to go you go, this is between me and it!”

“Alex, come on, it’s just a machine.”

“Won’t be nothin’ when I’m done with it.”

\--

The door beeps and flashes green. He pushes down the door handle and the door finally yields. He steps into the room and takes in the modest surroundings. Only one small bed, a large shuttered window, a desk with chair, flat screen TV, and a fully stocked bathroom that they will never use. Hardly the high ceilinged, multi-level suites he rented with his father’s money to impress pretty girls or the hovels Overwatch sometimes had them stay in. Normal. It looks normal. He forgoes the bed in favour of the carpeted floor, settling into meditation between the end of the bed and the mysterious stain on the floor.

Zenyatta still has not returned. Rather than the calm he seeks he finds his stomach in knots and his mind turning over the same two thoughts; something is wrong, Zenyatta is hurt. He will contact him if he needs him. And yet.

Genji rises to his feet again with a frustrated groan. He can go through some _kata_ to calm him, but even that holds no appeal. He paces the length of the room, restless. How foolish. Hanzo would have scoffed at him were he here. He pushes back the annoyance-thinking of his brother brings as many unwanted thoughts as thinking of Zenyatta.

After another ten minutes he finds the remote and flips on the TV. The landscape has changed in the years since he has watched it; the stories hopeful rather than steeped in cynicism about the future. Reality shows still run rampant, though, and he decides on a show about long-distance couples meeting for the first time.

He will just have to be patient, and trust that Zenyatta will return soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh there are quite a few OCs in this, but they really only serve as plot devices lol. The human/Omnic couple were meant to be the pair from the Alive short, though I know that someone has already made really cute comics about them on tumblr this is just my own take. :>
> 
> Hariyo = green in Nepali. Zenyatta... perhaps not the most original when it comes to names.
> 
> If you ever want to chat about Genyatta or OW in general I'm on tumblr(I'm also haku23 there) so send me a message if you like!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've removed the "Omnic Racism" tag from this due to changing my mind after seeing some people's thoughts on it(not about this work in particular but just in general). While the Omnics in the story will still face discrimination, that shouldn't be conflated with the very real reality of Racism; I apologize for any discomfort/negative feelings this may have caused!

“Alex, stop! It’s had enough-let’s just go!”

He has more than enough life in him to continue, but the child’s hands and breaths shake. He holds up his hand, “would you let me leave? I am afraid that I am quite late to meet someone.”

“Sh-Shut up!” Alex screams. Despite how loud they are no one has come out of their homes, nor looked out of their windows. Alex does not swing. The piece of pipe clatters to the ground. “You things killed my brother.”

“I lost my brother as well. He was killed by a human, but I wish you no ill will, Alex. Nor any humans. Though some days the pain of the loss is unbearable.”

The child sniffs loudly, “you. You’re lying. You don’t know nothing about feelings.”

“I know that I cannot bring him back by my actions, nor my wishes, nor anything else. The only thing that we have is the memories within our hearts,” he places his hand over his core, an approximation of a human heart, “what was his name?”

“Alex,” Alex answers and takes a step back. A name taken in memory of another, then.

“Mondatta,” he replies, though the question remains unasked.  

“Like-that hot shot monk guy?” Sam asks. The heart in their chest beats faster, perhaps out of fear of retribution so Zenyatta remains still. He cannot stop their fear but his lack of movement keeps them calm for now.

“You are very astute, yes, the very same.”

“I ain’t sorry he’s dead,” Alex takes another step back and turns quickly, “let’s go play some games.”

“You-you gonna be okay, Omnic?” Sam calls out. The other two frown, shoving at their friend to get them moving and the three of them go. Sam stares at him until the children are out of sight.

\--

He requires little sleep and so Genji merely dozes, the sound of the television soft and indistinct, and the bed beneath him welcoming and comfortable. The beep of the door unlocking switches him over to consciousness with speed rivalling Tracer’s blinking.

Even before he took in information quickly, but now his eyes and brain process his surroundings that much quicker. It takes a quarter of a second for him to notice the injuries to his Master’s frame. Before his human brain consciously thinks it he gets to his feet. Though he opens his mouth beneath his visor Zenyatta beats him to speaking as though he can see the movement.

“Do not be alarmed, Genji.”

“Yes, Master,” he says instead of the rest of the words waiting on his tongue. He must remember Zenyatta’s teachings. He takes a slow breath, the action more for his own comfort than necessity. 

“I was attacked, but you need not worry yourself, I am not damaged beyond my outer shell.”

As though it only matters if he suffers great bodily injury. As though he hasn’t spent hours helping Genji with his own wounds-of the body or otherwise. He must trust Zenyatta. He must not allow his emotions to influence him in harmful ways. He continues breathing; he still has a choice here.

“What can I do, Master?”

“Meditate with me. You are troubled by this, I knew you would be, and yet I did not stop it from happening.”

“I do not understand.”

“They were children, and I could not raise my hand to them. I thought that I might provide them an outlet for their anguish; they have suffered at the hands of Omnics as Omnics have suffered at the hands of humans.”

“This would not have happened if you allowed me to stay with you, Master.”

“I appreciate your concern, Genji, but what will occur, will occur, regardless of my or your feelings on the matter.”

Only respect keeps him from saying the thoughts on his mind-he is infuriating sometimes, does he not worry for his own safety at all? Especially after Mondatta their movements are watched closely, any of their weaknesses exploited, and yet Genji cannot act in a way which denies him his free will, even if it will keep him safe.

Zenyatta settles just above the floor, head bent slightly which only highlights the new indentation in the side. Genji wrenches his eyes away from it and the similar one on his arms; he sought to protect himself and they continued hitting him-he can only imagine what his Master said in response. He sits beside him and take comfort in the soothing sounds of his Master’s harmony orbs as they click into place and the soft warmth that radiates from him.

His shoulders lower and his breaths slow to match Zenyatta’s. He forgets his anger slowly, calmness washing over him like the tide.

“Genji, are you sleeping?”

“No, Master.”

“Would you like to? I apologize I interrupted your rest.”

“No, you did not interrupt,” he raises his head and Zenyatta chuckles, “I was only dozing, Master.”

“Is that not the same as sleeping?”

“It is not entirely the same. I do not dream,” he stretches his arms in front of him, the forgotten feeling returning to his limbs as he returns from his meditative state.

“I should like to experience a dream one day, they sound quite fascinating,” he rises into the air again and a plaintive beep draws their attention to his pants, “they have awoken.”

“They were not injured?”

“Oh, no, I took care to insure they were not harmed, do not worry.”

He leans over to observe him caring for the Tamagotchi as usual. Zenyatta’s hands are careful and soft as he presses the buttons, aware of course of the difference between the strong metal of his body and the plastic making up the Tamagotchi. Despite the attack he does not act out of the ordinary but of course this is not the first time Zenyatta has come under fire. Genji knows the origins of only half of the blemishes on his body, and does not ask about the rest.

“Will you allow me to accompany you tomorrow, Master?”

“You still worry for my safety.”

He breathes out slowly as Hariyo eats the food offered, “I always worry for your safety, Master, though I know that I should not.”

“You are kind hearted as always, my student,” he reaches up and pats the side of Genji’s faceplate with his free hand before dropping it to his lap again, “you may come, though you may make our new friend jealous. Becki finds you quite fascinating.’

“I am a ninja; who can blame her?”

Zenyatta laughs, “You are also an expert at wooing.”

“Master,” he continues to hope against all reason that Zenyatta will forget his words in Hanamura but thus far, no miracles have occurred.

“Am I embarrassing you again, Genji?”

“You are.”

“Oh dear.”

“ _Oh dear_? You delight in it.”

“I do. But you are, as they say “too easy”,” he tucks the Tamagotchi away again, “now, you too must rest.”

These moments make him forget he has lived 15 years longer than Zenyatta. But his Master came into being a fully formed adult and Genji still sometimes struggles to understand his place in the universe. The balance he seeks still shimmers like an oasis just out of his grasp on some days, and on others does not appear at all.

“Will you allow me to check your wounds, Master?”

“For my benefit, or your own?”

He frowns and though the truth is far from flattering he says, “My motives are purely selfish, Master.”

“Then I must insist you do so.”

“I do not understand.”

“If it will bring you peace, my student, I must do what I can.”

“But you will continue to do as you please, even if it causes you injury.”

Zenyatta nods, “a plant will not grow without a mix of sunlight and rain. One’s mind has that quality as well.”

“Yes, Master.”

He begins to inspect the injuries with gentle hands, though Zenyatta’s sensors only register massive amounts of pain and only to prevent further injury, much like Genji’s own body. He lifts his forearm and runs his fingertips over the slight indentation; on a human it would be indicative of a serious injury but on an Omnic it amounts to even less than a bruise. Still, his blood-artificial and otherwise-boils at the sight of it. His body vents steam and Zenyatta covers his hand with his own.

“You are still angry. Tell me your thoughts.”

“I should not have allowed you to go alone. I should have protected you- I would not know what to do if I lost you, Master, the thought that you might be injured somewhere beyond my reach would not leave my head.”

“You do yourself harm to worry so much,” he squeezes the hand in his grasp, “You will continue to exist, even without me, and you will continue to learn. I am accompanying you on your path; not becoming it.”

“I do not want to lose you, Master. I know that it is selfish to think so.”

“And I am immeasurably fond of you as well, Genji. Personal feelings often cause us to act in illogical ways, it is thrilling!”

“I think you are the only person who would think that.”

“Everything is a lesson, and I wish to learn what I can; especially from someone with your experience.”

“Master I am being serious,” he grumbles; not even women play this hard to get, but perhaps Zenyatta does not know they are playing. He must tell him of his feelings, as he tells him everything, before it becomes an unmanageable secret. But the words lodge in his throat. He is 14 again and sweating in an arcade, working up the courage to ask the girl who keeps beating him at Street Fighter to go out after the next round. He is 15 and 16 and 18 covering up the butterflies in his stomach with bravado and a cocky smile.

“Forgive me, Genji, I did not mean to make light. Are you satisfied?”

“Yes, Master. I will rest.”

“Then I will watch over you.”

The presence of Zenyatta at his side as he lays back on the bed both calms and excites; his mind refuses to rest, but after a few changes of position he finally surrenders to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the wish was for Genji to swoop in and save the day, but I think that Zenyatta is probably pretty durable; he has scratches on him, and a couple of dents caused by kids are probably not going to hurt him(there's a reason Widow shot Mondatta in the equivalent of the brain lol). Tell that to Genji the Dramatic Hoe tho amirite? haha 
> 
> Thanks for readin!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll bet what y'all were hoping for is more OCs... well you're in luck! Because there ARE more!

The next morning begins with meditation, though the locale differs greatly from their previous spots with cars passing at lightning speed out front of the building, and the view leaving something to be desired, but he manages to clear the errant and unhelpful thoughts from his mind anyway.

“I have heard there is a memorial to Mondatta,” Zenyatta does not sound troubled, though he must be, “I would like to see it.”

“I as well, Master.”

Despite the gunfire last night the light of day provides relative safety from those who disagree with their existence; some people glare, but do not attack. But they find quickly that they and the Omnic from last night do not make up the Omnic population in the area.

A few Omnics gather around the steps of the hotel where Mondatta was gunned down. Their bodies lack the sophistication of Genji’s and a year ago he might have felt jealous at their lack of battle capabilities. The youngest one guessing by how brightly they shine turns quickly at the sound of their approach. Their face betrays nothing, but they frantically tap on their friends’ shoulders and point.

Zenyatta flashes a peace sign and they all return the favour, the shining chrome one now shaking their friends by their hold on their smooth shoulders. The memorial is small, only a photo and candles, and soon the flowers in Zenyatta’s arms. A statue of Mondatta and a human child stands in the square just beyond the wall, but it is here where they gather and here where Zenyatta chooses to go.

“Greetings, friends.”

“Hello!” all three of them seem to vibrate with excitement and answer in unison. A few humans eye them as they pass, murmuring their guesses as to why they all have gathered here. Genji ignores them. Mondatta’s portrait looks out benevolently in contrast to the memories Genji has of him challenging his beliefs, and eventually of he and Zenyatta taking their leave of the monastery completely.

“I have come to pay my respects to my brother. What has you gathered here?”

“Keeping watch. There is a protest staged... relations between us and humans are...strained and,” the matte black metal Omnic says.

“ _Strained_. They want us _decommissioned_ , Paolo. I say we have to fight back; it’s the only way to make sure we don’t end up in a scrap heap,” the shiny one interrupts.

“You are too violent, Mika. That is not the way to deal with this problem.”

“Neither is being so passive they walk all over you.”

“My goodness, what a difficult debate,” Zenyatta comments, drawing the attention away from the fight brewing between the two Omnics.

“What do you think, 14T0?” Mika asks, crossing their arms over their chest in a decidedly human gesture.

The last, thus far silent, Omnic looks at their small feet, “I am. Just very excited to meet one of the Shambali.”

Zenyatta laughs, “and I you. I have heard of this demonstration, must we immediately resort to violence?”

“But they want us dead.”

“Violence only leads to further violence, I know this from experience,” Genji says, finally breaking his silence, “before I met Master Zenyatta I thought as you do, but it is not always the best solution.”

“You still carry a weapon.” He hears the eye roll in Mika’s voice and blows out a breath.

“As do we all. Our hands too can be a weapon of change, but more so if we extend them in friendship. None of us is responsible for the actions of our ancestors, no, but we must seek balance in our understanding of humans and one another.”

“Tell that to 14T0’s brother,” Mika scoffs, “thought you’d be different. I’m going back to the flat.”

They brush past, knocking Genji’s shoulder as they do so. He stands up straighter, watching them as they go and frowning beneath his faceplate.

“Forgive her, Master Zenyatta, she does not mean half of what she says when she is angry,” 14T0 raises their head, “she saw my brother killed.”

“She does mean it, and that is perfectly all right. Your loss is great; I only wish that one day human and Omnic will live together in harmony.”

“Yes, me as well. Did you come to pay your respects?” 14T0 glances to the memorial, “we keep it safe, otherwise...”

“I thank you, it must be difficult for you.”

“It is hard to see humans come, seeking to destroy such a small expression of our sorrow, but many come to mourn as well,” Paolo too stares at the small huddle of candles and the photo. Their earlier exuberance gives way to weariness. This is their everyday existence; he sees the way Zenyatta’s shoulders lower and his grip on the bouquet tightens.

“What are you lot doing over there, Omnics?” someone calls out. They continue walking, though, too afraid to confront them with anything other than hasty words. 14T0 and Paolo shake their heads and say “typical” in unison. They laugh and look at one another, then their feet.  

“If you want some time alone, Master Zenyatta, we can go. Mika is probably waiting for us back at the flat,” Paolo says, but the two of them have already made their decision judging by how they rise to their feet.

“Please do not act opposite to your desires on my account.”

“I’ve got work in another hour anyway, and Paolo’s got paintings to do.”

“Then it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Zenyatta levels the full force of his “smiling” face on them and they brighten, giving twin waves as they descend the stairs and integrate with the crowd. “Ah, young love.”

“Master?”

“They have attuned their frequencies, it is quite easy to sense if you have seen it before,” he moves to the memorial and lowers himself.

“You have had a lover, Master?” he can’t quite keep the disbelief from his voice as he asks. Imagining his Master in the embrace of another-a traitorous bolt of something close to jealousy shoots through him. 

Zenyatta laughs quietly, “no, my student, merely known those who have. I have had little time for courtship, even before you came to me.” Then, softly, “Mondatta would not have approved. And in my youth his opinion of my actions often influenced me.”

Somehow calling Mondatta a cockblocker at his memorial site feels less than appropriate, especially when he himself might be just as guilty of it as well.

“I see,” Genji says instead and settles down beside his Master. The candles flicker lightly, but do not go out. A stick of incense sends smoke curling towards the sky. Only a small portion has burned down from it-the others must replace it often.

As Zenyatta begins a Sutra Genji’s falls into place alongside it, their voices undeniably different but in harmony with one another. Calm overtakes him. The outside world disappears. He is 28 and newly free of Overwatch with all of his self scattered to the wind; Zenyatta’s voice guides the pieces back together for Genji to take.

Their voices ebb away but the calm stays. He rolls his shoulders back, releasing the tension in his joints and opens his eyes.

“Thank you Genji. You are as always an excellent meditation partner.”

“And you as well, Master.”

They stay a little while longer but before long they are on their way to meet with Becki and her Omnic partner again. On the way Zenyatta fills him in on the plan; assist in escorting them to their new lodgings. It sounds easy, and as Zenyatta says both will be out of King’s Row before the anti-Omnic demonstration. His thoughts turn to those who will not be leaving-Mika, 14T0, Paolo, and the other Omnics in the area.

When they reach the couple’s flat Becki stares, a child on her hip, “oh, didn’t think you’d be coming along, Genji.”

“My apologies for the unexpected intrusion,” he says, though he recalls Zenyatta saying she finds him fascinating, whatever that means.

“Not at all. Come on in and have a tea if you’d like,” she steps back, allowing them in to the open concept apartment.

Boxes have been stacked by the door and the walls darker in spots where framed items hung on the wall. Only a few things remain out of boxes-a box of tea, a kettle with a couple of cups, a car seat, and a broom which leans against the wall in the kitchen.

“Tea? I think I’ve got some biscuits around,” she runs a hand through her hair, clearly troubled by the lack of visible snacks, “Axl’s gone on to pick up the truck, and then we can get moving. Can’t thank you enough, honestly.”

“Genji?” Zenyatta asks.

“No. Thank you.”

Zenytatta declines a cup as well and Becki smiles, setting the squirming child down on the floor, “everything all right with your hotel?”

“Yes, thank you for the recommendation, they have been very hospitable.”

“Good, tough to find a place in this part of the city to be honest.”

They fall into silence, Becki stacks the cups and walks about the apartment looking for last minute things to deal with. She picks up imperceptible bits of lint and dust and sweeps the already spotless floor and peers out the windows whenever she passes them.

Her child crawls with amazing swiftness to Zenyatta and points, “bah.”

“You are quite right,” he holds out his hand and one of his harmony orbs floats down into it, “what is your name?”

“It’s David. Not quite at the full answers stage yet,” Becki smiles, the bags under her eyes becoming more pronounced as she does so.

David takes the orb offered to him and immediately tries to stick it in his mouth. Zenyatta turns to Genji, who shrugs-he had no younger siblings, nor much interaction with such young children at all. Becki huffs out a laugh, “David, no, sweetheart.”

He makes an undecipherable noise and Genji needs no formal training with children to anticipate the shriek as she bends to take it out of his mouth.

“Ah, my apologies, I did not anticipate such an immediate escalation to trying to eat it. How interesting!”

Becki stares for a second then shakes her head, “you lot. Axl’s always saying that kind of thing. But I suppose when you’ve not ever been a baby it’s fascinating.” She picks him up again and bounces him in her arms, voice cheerful as she addresses the baby, “isn’t it?”

The harmony orb is returned to its spot in the circle and David stops crying just to watch their gentle bobbing. Genji tears his own eyes away.

With her child in hand Becki begins walking the perimeter again with renewed fervour. David settles, resting his head against her shoulder and Genji turns his hearing back up to full capacity.

“What troubles you?” Zenyatta asks after her second circuit.

She stops, face flushing, “sorry, just a bit nervous. Neighbours’ll be happy to see us gone anyway.”

“Your worry is not surprising, Axl spoke of the troubles you have faced and we must remain hopeful they will cease with this move.”

“Right. Ireland’s supposed to be pretty all right. New landlord didn’t have too much to say about us being a bit of an odd couple.” 

“You are perfectly suited to one another.”

“Thanks,” she smiles then looks between them, “are you two?”

The door opening interrupts them, and with the arrival of Axl they begin piling the boxes into the moving truck out front. He sees a couple of people peeking out from behind curtains but when he raises his head to meet their eyes the fabric drops back into place. When all is said and done the truck is barely even half full, the large furniture either given away or sold off.

The pair close up the back of the truck and stand for a moment, looking at the window of the place that used to be theirs from the street. Becki wraps her free arm around Axl’s cylindrical waist, “can’t say I’ll miss it.”

“Nor I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone: so are you guys dati-  
> convenient plot device: HEY WHAT'S UP HONEY YOU DON'T HAVE TO ANSWER THAT
> 
> Tbh Paolo is shamelessly based on K2SO who I had only seen in a car commercial at the point when I was writing this part of the fic lmao. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, see you next Sunday when the Shit(tm) begins to hit the fan. I'm nearing the end of the fic as a whole, (since all of these updates so far have been written for months tbh) so once that happens I can either make the chapters longer or update more than once a week. Let me know which you'd prefer!


	5. Chapter 5

They hit the road with Genji and Zenyatta riding in the storage part of the truck, holding onto the boxes containing the more breakable of their possessions while Axl and Becki focus on the road ahead despite their insistence that Zenyatta ride up front instead of one of them. A clear piece of plastic separates them from one another, but the barrier isn’t soundproof; Genji hears the upbeat pop music playing in the cab from where he and Zenyatta sit.

One of the boxes tips dangerously and he moves to catch it but the truck shudders to a stop and the other boxes around him threaten to tip over as well.

“ _Shit_ ,” he says in Japanese before moving, each of his limbs stretched in different directions. Zenyatta remains still for a moment, not moving to help at all before a few golden limbs sprout from his back.

“Allow me, my student,” he says and takes one of the boxes from Genji’s load, then another.

They get halfway through repositioning the boxes so they no longer balance on top of one another when the truck screeches to a halt. Tableware rattles and Becki shouts in surprise. He glances out between the seats up front and sees someone standing in the road blocking their progress. They hold some kind of weapon and they aren’t alone in that.

“Oh god,” he hears Becki say and then she screams.

“Master.”

“Yes.”

They exit from the back and circle around to the front. They spot them immediately, but their focus remains on Axl who holds up their hands in surrender even while they push them to their knees.

“Hello, what seems to be the problem?” Zenyatta asks, his extra limbs now gone but still just as calm.

Two or three shuriken can dispense the issue easily, but he holds back. He prepares himself for the inevitable fight anyway, his blood rushing in his ears.

“You’re trying to escape, we know your type. Like rats. We’re the exterminators.”

“You will not allow us to pass? Our companions seek to leave, nothing more.”

The closest person raises their rifle, “you not got ears? He said we’re exterminators; means you’re not going anywhere. World’s better off without your kind.”

“I must ask you to explain your point of view, I am afraid I do not understand,” he glances to Genji.

“Please, just let us go, we are not trying to cause trouble,” Axl says. The woman standing behind him hits him with the butt of her gun, nearly knocking him to the ground. Cars pass by unbothered by the scene at the side of the road and Genji watches them go. Not me, not my problem; he used to think that way.

“You still don’t get it, do you? None of you are leaving.”

He sees Zenyatta adjust his position, barely perceptible to the eye. His next move is so quick that the humans don’t see it, but the change in the aura of the man aiming at Axl’s head occurs immediately.

“We-are we doing the right thing here? It’s got a kid in there.”

“What are you talking about? Wes, you can’t be getting cold feet now, this is our moment!”

“I dunno,” he shakes his head dragging his hand down his face, “I dunno, Sarah.”

“We can’t afford to wait; the others back in King’s Row’re already getting started!”

He shakes his head again, “an Omnic nurse saved my brother last year, you know that. I dunno. I dunno if I can do this.”

Zenyatta nods to Genji. He dashes towards the truck and slides into the cab while the three turn on one another.

“Do not worry. Be ready to drive.”

“Why are they doing this?” her voice cracks and David screeches.

“Breathe. Remain calm,” he tells her even as his own heart beats faster in anticipation of a fight. He lowers his voice, “You will get behind the wheel, we will get Axl into the passenger’s side. And when we tell you, you will drive away.”

“But what about-“

“I am a ninja.”

She nods, “right. Right. Course, you’re a ninja.”

The talking outside escalates to yelling. He slips back out of the truck, taking his place beside Zenyatta, a step ahead of him to deflect any projectiles that might come their way.

“In a moment,” Zenyatta says softly.

“Yes, Master.”

The move together; Genji rushes them, easily knocking their weapons aside and slicing through them with a single cut while Zenyatta takes advantage of the chaos to guide Axl into the truck. The door slams and he taps on it. They peel away but without any weapons the three attackers can only watch.

“Think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

Genji laughs, “give it up.”

Zenyatta pulls back the ball of energy with a smooth movement, “I suggest you return to your homes and reflect upon your actions.”

For a silent moment they only stand, and then they step back.

“Do not feel so bad, you are only human,” he scoffs. Zenyatta lays a hand on his and Genji closes his mouth.

They get into their own car and turn back onto the road, heading back to King’s Row. They will likely join their other companions there, and he does not need to hear Zenyatta say that he will also return there to know his plan.

“I will accompany you, Master.”

“As you wish. Thank you for your assistance today, Genji, I am certain that our friends appreciate it as well.”

“I do not understand these people, Master,” he says as they begin the walk back into town.

The road retains some hints of nature in the form of trees lining the street, behind a stone barrier which they climb over and follow. Despite the trees he still sees the turquoise sky scrapers of the newer part of the city. Cutting through the forest might be faster than following the road, but the idea of more attackers lurking in the woods stops them.

“How did you see Omnics before you came to me?” Zenyatta asks and abruptly stops, “oh dear, a baby bird.”

“You should leave it, Master, its mother will come back for it.”

The chick peeps.

“You are right, but how lonely it must be.”

“Only for a moment, Master.”

He hums, “yes, I suppose I have my hands full with one sparrow.”

“ _I_ am a handful?” he can’t keep his voice from sounding incredulous and Zenyatta laughs, patting him on the shoulder.

“I would not have it any other way, of course, Genji,” he floats down to address the chick, “Be strong, small one, your mother will return for you shortly. Is there nothing I can do? Put him in a tree, perhaps?”

“No, Master, or his mother maybe unable to find him.”

“I will trust your expertise then. But you do not think that I could keep him in a nest-“

“I thought one sparrow was enough?”

The chick peeps. Zenyatta’s hands hover in the air but don’t touch. Genji keeps his own hands to himself; it is unlike Zenyatta to see things in such a way, though he is not opposed to giving nature a helping hand when he can. Genji smiles as Zenyatta leans just an inch closer to the chick who, to his credit, appears unbothered by them both.

“Ah, but he is so cute.”

“Unchi and Hariyo will be jealous.”

“You are right. It is preferable for him to be free. Forgive me for thinking so selfishly, small one, you must, of course, remain in your proper home,” Zenyatta says, but continues staring back at the chick as they begin walking again. He sighs, undeniably pleased, “it has been some time since we have been in such a green place. It does the soul good.”

An adult bird flies down to where the chick lays, and Genji watches as they fly up into the trees together. He smiles, “yes, Master, it does.”

\--

Once back in the city they make it to their hotel without incident though the streets are more empty than usual. The typical sounds of London are muted, but they make no action. Genji naps while Zenyatta cares for the Tamagotchi and watches a sitcom with an Omnic and human living as roommates, occasionally the soft melody of his laughter floats into Genji’s dreams, but does not wake him.

_His brother stands over him, eyes hard and blood-Genji’s blood-splashed across his cheek._

_“Is he dead?”_

_“Yes,” Hanzo says. Swallows. “He is dead.”_

_His legs won’t move. His arms lay crumpled beneath him, warm from the blood pooling around him. Doesn’t dare try to move. Doesn’t dare breathe. Doesn’t dare blink. His eyes burn. They turn away, leaving him bleeding out on the floor. All of this for some money, for some power, for some foolish attempt to attain love from a dead man. He wants to scream. Force Hanzo to look at him, really look at him, his own brother dying like a stray dog. He chokes on his breaths on the blood in his mouth and-_

He wakes with a short gasp. A ball of light hangs over his head, pushing the clawing tendrils of the nightmare away. He breathes deeply, “thank you, Master.”

“Of course,” he says quietly. He does not ask-there is only one nightmare he has, and it is not so frequent anymore. The conversation has been spoken and rehashed more times than he can count, and so he only sits up. Zenyatta leaves the ball of energy beside him as Genji asks.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Quite a long time, a few hours.”

Another email from Winston sits in his inbox. He flicks the notification away from his vision.

“I see. What should our next move be, Master?”

“I would like to remain in London a little while longer.”

Genji cannot say he did not see that one coming. He nods, “The demonstration.”

“While I cannot deny them their right to protest, I forsee trouble. A peaceful demonstration does not always stay peaceful, I may be needed.”

“Hm, was it not you who said not all conflicts are our own, Master?” he leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand.

“I am afraid this is one I may have no choice but to become involved in. I worry for Mika, and the human children I met-both sides seek revenge, I do not think they will take much time to listen to one another.”

Those children would not readily defend Zenyatta. Genji understands his meaning, but his attachment overrides it-little wonder that Mondatta did not approve of the Shambali taking lovers. Zenyatta pats him on the head, “do not worry, Genji, I will do nothing dangerous.”

“I was not worrying but I must admit I doubt you, Master.”

“What a troublesome student…”

“I must have a very good teacher,” he replies and continues, “Master, there is something I must-“

A boom rattles the building.

He looks to the television and a red banner begins scrolling along the bottom of the screen. Stay indoors, do not open the door to strangers. He and Zenyatta move to the window. A plume of smoke rises from the city square where Mondatta’s statue stands.

“It would appear they are beginning their demonstration ahead of schedule.”

“Yes. Shall we go?”

“Yes, I believe that would be a good idea.”

The woman at the front desk calls after them as they head for the front doors, “didn’t you see the bulletin?”

“Yes we did, thank you,” Zenyatta replies. They step out onto the street anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sparrows represent like, the strength of community, protection (also Genji of course but that's y'know a given), and the need to cooperate and working together for common goals. But a lone sparrow in Biblical times also represented solitude and loneliness. 
> 
> Which one was this sparrow foreshadowing? You'll just have to wait and see. ;D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter comin at ya!

The night air is filled with the sound of car alarms and then gunfire. No one else exits the hotel, human or Omnic, and even the roads are empty of cars. Steam rises from the sewers giving the area an eerie look that only increases the further they walk.

“Master, will you stay close?”

“Of course, my student, so long as you do not run too quickly.”

He slows slightly from the brisk pace he sets. Zenyatta has two floating speeds-slow, and slower-for all that his mind works so quickly but Genji cannot slow himself for long. He tells himself it is not the thought of a fight which spurs him forward, but his motives are not purely selfless either. Thinking of someone destroying Zenyatta’s core as the assassin had Mondatta’s makes him walk more quickly-if he destroys their weapons perhaps he can turn the tide of the fight.

“Genji.”

“Yes, Master.”

“May I?” he gestures to the tail of fabric that flaps as Genji moves.

“Excellent idea, Master.”

They must make an odd sight, he running and Zenyatta holding on for dear life as he gets pulled along, but they make it to the outer radius of the conflict much quicker. Chanting sounds along with the gunfire, both fighting to overpower the other. He wonders for a moment where exactly the police force is on this-he hears no sirens-but then maybe they don’t get involved in so-called peaceful protests. It doesn’t matter. When they get ever closer Zenyatta lets go of the fabric tethering them together.

“I worry for Mika. We must find her.”

“Yes, Master.”

The young Omnic will not be hard to find, but the bursts of gunfire draw his attention. They turn down a side street and come face to face with three humans. They stare, then wave them over, “c’mere, not safe out here for you.”

Zenyatta goes, and Genji follows; they hold no weapons but that does not mean they do not pose a threat. Genji watches them closely as they walk up to them. Two men and a woman-not much older than their teens, if that. They seem to inspect Genji just as closely, their eyes sweeping from his shoulder to his hip.

“You planning on fighting someone?” one of the men asks, “probably not a good idea, trust.”

“We have no plans to fight anyone, only to insure there are no casualties on either side,” Zenyatta says serenely, and the humans relax slightly.

“Well between you and me, you should probably stay inside and not let anyone know you’re there.”

“Are they hunting Omnics?” Genji keeps his ears pricked for the sound of more gunfire but the battle is eerily silent-even the chanting has stopped.

“Sure as hell ain’t playin’ hide and seek. They got all kinds of weapons, you might get right fucked if you try and go in there.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Zenyatta says in the way that when he speaks to Genji means ‘there is 0 room for argument’.

The woman sighs, “You’re doing it anyhow. All right. So you’ve got blokes with machine guns, think I saw a grenade launcher. And that’s just real weapons; some have got bats, and the like. Don’t ask me how they got ‘em though.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a demonstration,” Genji says. The dragon in his blood snaps its jaws, pleased at the idea of a real battle. He shoves it aside for the moment. “Where are the police?”

The man wearing a beanie laughs, “Police? Not from around here, are you? They reckon so long as they keep out of it the problem’ll take care of itself.”

The crackling of gunfire turns his head. Too close to ignore. He steps closer to Zenyatta, “have you seen an Omnic around-very shiny, two rectangle lights, goes by the name-“

“Mika. Yeah, saw her about an hour ago, but she hasn’t responded to my texts.”

His friends look at him and the guy shrugs, mumbles, “we were in a class together.”

“We must find her then,” Zenyatta ducks his head, “thank you for the information, the Iris embraces you.”

“Thank you, be safe,” Genji continues and the humans nod before continuing walking towards the subway station.

The next corner they take brings them directly into the conflict. The person fires on them immediately. Genji ducks to the side for the first burst then deflects the next round. “Master, take cover.”

The harmony orb catches his eye as it takes its place over his head before Zenyatta returns behind the corner. He dashes forward, faster than the human can pull the trigger on their gun again. He slices through the strap then jams his _Wakizashi_ through the firing mechanism.

“Fucking Omnic,” they snap. They swing the gun up as though to hit him and he laughs, knocks it from their hands. Their friend barrels around the corner, drawn by the shouting. Genji closes the distance between them easily and knocks their bat from their hand. They shout in surprise, flinching back from his sword and showing their inexperience in battle. He grins under his faceplate.

“You are only human. Run home, before you really get into trouble.”

He jerks forward and they turn tail and run. When he turns he finds their friend gone too. But the enemies keep coming with only half a minute between each wave. Their weapons get more makeshift-pipes, bats, and a pylon once he dices their pipe into chunks. It’s like playing a game from his youth. _Fruit Ninja_.

\--

He recognizes the voice of the child immediately-the Iris smiles upon him today, he may be able to get to them before they go too far into the warzone. Genji runs out of sight but he does not follow. If there is something he can do in order to prevent bloodshed then he must; the “demonstration” is no place for children. He floats towards their voices and listens in on their chatter. Alex’s voice buzzes with excitement, Sam’s comes in hesitant bursts, and Ralph says not much at all.

With a quiet whir being the only thing that gives away that he moves, they do not notice him at first. Sam glances back as though nervous and he sees the second he gets spotted. Eyes widen, body jerks in response, and a quiet noise precedes them grabbing Ralph’s arm. The two of them trip over their feet, and Alex turns too, snapping something about how stupid they are.

“Back for more?”

“I must admit it is quite the opposite. It is not safe where you seek to go,” he says. Despite the beating he got the other night Zenyatta continues towards them, “there are guns, you may be injured.”

“What d’you care, Omnic?”

“It’s one of them Shambalis, Alex, it probably hates violence,” Sam says, voice shaking, “or something.”

“Got them Rules of Robotics on ‘em doesn’t it?” Ralph suggests. Alex smacks him upside the head and he yells in protest, ducking to avoid any subsequent attacks.

“Idiot, that’s only in movies.”

“You are quite right, the Shambali do not believe in violence,” he turns his head to regard Sam, brightening the lights on his forehead to give the impression of a smile.

“Well anyway, mind your own business, Omnic, and I won’t bash your skull in,” Alex turns on their heel, “let’s go, or are you guys chickening out again?”

Sam looks to their friends then to Zenyatta and back again. “I. I’m goin’ home. My parents’ll kill me if they find out I’m out this late on a school night.”

“Serious? You can’t let that machine get under your skin, Sam, what’s next, you start takin’ advice from the microwave?”

They shake their head, “I gotta go.”

“Go find yourself some new friends, while you’re at it. Maybe a Roomba,” Alex takes off and after a moment Ralph follows with a shrug in Sam’s direction.

“Will you allow me to take you home?”

“Nah. I’m fine,” they look after their friends, “don’t take what Alex says too harsh, she’s just got a lot goin’ on is all.”

“Ah,” he says and looks down, “excuse me, I have these in my charge, and they are quite needy.”

“What’re those?”

“My student called them Tamagotchi. But hm, it is quite difficult to take care of both of them, what should I do?”

Sam stares at him, crossing their arms over their chest, “you want me to take one of them, eh?”

“You have caught me. I know how difficult it is to stand up to those who are important to you, but these bring me some comfort.”

“Okay. I’ll take one,” they continue to stare at him, but their gaze gradually drops to the Tamagotchi-surely they must know of them. Unchi beeps as he feeds him and Sam looks away as though unwilling to appear at all interested.  

“Is there anything you would like in return for this burden?”

“You got any cash?” They look to where Ralph and Alex ran to, frowning, wistful.

“I am afraid not. I could however attempt to have your friends return to safety, though I admit that this is more of a bargain for me than you as that has always been my intention.”

They look at their feet, “Forget it, they aren’t my friends anymore.”

“You no longer care for their safety?”

Sam shrugs, but their eyes keep flicking up towards their friends’ path. “What’s its name anyway?”

He holds out Unchi and Sam slowly reaches out to take hold of the keychain, “Unchi, but you may call him whatever you like now that he is in your charge.”

“Don’t tell Alex I sent you.”

“Be safe on your way home, Sam.”

They go, looking down at Unchi’s screen as they walk and Zenyatta feels only a slight pinch of loss. Genji might not approve, but Genji will already be upset with him for wandering off and if there is something he can do to ease pain then he must do so. He continues after the others.

~~**~~

Zenyatta no longer sits where he left him. Genji huffs out a breath but if he has gone somewhere it is likely somewhere that has need of him. The harmony orb has long since returned, however, and so he cannot follow its trail to locate him. He scales the building to get a better vantage point. Something flashes and he zooms in on it-Mika-and to the left-Zenyatta. Both may reach the same point, but Zenyatta can take care of himself in most respects. He groans and heads towards the right.

He lands at her side a few moments later and she turns to him. “Changed your mind?”

The climate around them is frenzied. Humans and Omnics hold signs, and weapons in equal turns-a friend resembles a foe up until the last second. He must keep on his guard. Gunfire punctures the air in short bursts. Fires have popped up. A nearby wall holds a message in white paint “machines have no rights”. The rest of the group have their attention elsewhere, his presence goes unnoticed by human and Omnic alike. These people lack the awareness of trained fighters-he keeps his weapons sheathed.

14T0 and Paolo start when they realize he stands beside them, “when’d you get here? Where’s Master Zenyatta?”

“He is,” he thinks of lying, but chooses the truth instead, “about two minutes from our location-for me.”

“Aren’t you his bodyguard?”

“Bodyguard? I thought he was his-“  

“Enough. We do not have any time. It is not safe here; you should pull back,” he holds up his hand and Mika scoffs.

“Pull back? We have a chance to make a difference here. You don’t live here, you don’t see what we see.”

“Mika, maybe he’s right.”

“If you want to go home, Paolo, you go. But don’t consider yourself my friend if you wimp out now.”

Genji might be in a ramen shop right now, or sitting in meditation in the mountains of Nepal with Zenyatta, or really anywhere else and yet, he is here. He sighs out his frustration-do children ever really understand when someone says “we have no time” or did he just get the short end of the stick?

“Oi, Mika,” he readies himself for another kind of fight as she turns on him, “what kind of training do you have? Have you ever taken a life?”

“I don’t have to answer to you.”

The tell-tale whistle of a rocket drags his gaze upwards, “take cover!”

Humans and Omnics scream, and scatter like ripples across a pond. Signs drop to the floor.

The trio look to one another, unmoving. His eyes remain locked on the rocket, calculating its trajectory. He shoves Mika through a window and into a shop with a single push. The crashing of the window compliments the sound of the rocket’s screeching. His foot connects with Paolo and knocks him flying. He wraps an arm around 14T0 and hauls them into an alleyway.

The rocket impacts. The explosion rattles and bursts the windows in the shops closest to the spot they once stood. Stone falls in a quiet pitter-patter at first, and then in a few large thunks. His ears ring, and 14T0 scrambles out from under him. The lights lining their chest flicker, but remain on; relaying information. They stare at him, the large black circles somehow appearing even wider now.

“You saved me.”

 He grabs their shoulder, “shh. Do not make too much noise. Let them think they have killed us.”

Genji slips back out onto the street, or rather the crater of what used to be it. He glances to the right-Paolo raises his head, the three lights forming a line down his face winking. Genji nods at him, and they steady. He waves 14T0 out of the alley and points. The pair reconnect with an embrace and Genji’s heart settles, somewhat.

The shop he knocked Mika into has an anti-Omnic sign by the door-the irony might have gotten a laugh from him in another situation. He hops in and Mika tackles him against the windowframe. A blow to his pride, but she only has rage on her side-not power.

“These people will not see you as a martyr,” he pushes her fist to the side, “and you will not get the redemption you seek through death.”

“What do you know?”

“I know that revenge is an empty pursuit.”

Her next attempted attack might as well be a breeze blowing over him. He continues, “You cannot fight for anything if you are dead. You cannot reverse one death by causing another.”

“It was my fault,” she says. Despite her robotic voice he hears the anguish in her words; she believes it. He cannot change her mind, but perhaps Zenyatta can.

“Things happen, we cannot change everything,” he tells her as he hauls himself and her to their feet, “your friends are waiting for you. Go home. Leave this fight to me.”

She starts to say something and he shakes his head, “go home.”

She tries again and he sighs, switches to Japanese, “ _Go. Home. **Now**. Quietly. Let the humans think they are successful. For now._ ”

“ _You do not know anything.”_

 _“I know you are angry. But your anger will only get you killed tonight. Save it instead. Use it wisely,”_ he hops back out of the window, “ _also, I can deflect a bullet with my sword. Much more helpful than standing in one place.”_

She chases him, and he points to where Paolo and 14T0 stand, holding on to one another. She looks from the mouth of the street to her friends a few times. They hold out their hands. Her shoulders lower and she walks towards them.

“Go home, stay inside until this blows over,” he calls out. They look back to him and he shoos them away, “Go home. How many times do I have to say it? Go home.”

They start walking and Genji breathes out. The last large weight on his chest is Zenyatta. He climbs the side of the building, keeping flat against the shingled roof as he surveys the area for any signs of further attackers with heavy weaponry. His dragon whispers in his ear-give in, give in. He forces its words from his mind with a Sutra murmured under his breath as he slips from rooftop to rooftop, the words flowing together like scales.

He spots Zenyatta the moment he rises up from his crouch. He has two children with him-one, shouting and holding a bat, the other standing a little bit further back with their hands in their pockets. Mondatta’s statue behind him still gazes out across the streets that have become a battlefield. Multiple hostile presences ping on his radar, their silhouettes marked with a red outline by the mechanical part of his eyes. One child breaks off and runs. The next stays, still shouting but Genji cannot hear their words over the sounds of battle.

The next words though, he hears in stereo sound. “You idiot, don’t shoot, it’s got a human kid!”

His feet feel as though they move in slow motion despite knowing he dashes as quickly as his robotic legs can move. The rooftops pass below him in quick taps. His heart thumps. His shoulders vent steam. Too late. Too late. Too late. His vision flickers. The boom rocks the foundations of the building he jumps onto, his vision filled with golden light. He lands. He locks on to the humans holding the weapon, his arm clinking as it prepares his shuriken. Too late-give in-rage crackles under his skin. He looks to Zenyatta. He breathes out a shaky breath and turns towards him, running to where he lies curled into a loose ball.

“Master, no, no,” he looks to the child only a few feet from Zenyatta. They appear no worse for wear from the explosion, but they stare at him with wide eyes; terrified. A bat rolls out of sight from the power of the explosion.

“Genji, you must take,” his voice crackles with static, the speed of it moving between fast and slow, “Hariyo, and this child.”

“You are damaged, Master, do not try to move,” he presses a hand against his chest to keep him from moving but Zenyatta still holds up the green Tamagotchi, “Master, I do not-”

“It will be all right, my student, do not fear,” he presses the toy into Genji’s hand, “my systems are. Overloaded. I will. Sleep now.”

Winston’s number is into his built in phone before he does anything else. He clips Hariyo to his _Wakizashi_ and holds out his hand to the child. The phone rings once, twice. The child continues to stare at him but makes no move. Gunfire bursts in the distance, but gets closer. People shout, argue, discord grows in their ranks at the one’s mistake. He shakes his hand, beckoning the child as Winston’s voice comes over the phone.

“Genji? Hey, what’s-uh, is that guns I hear?”

“Hello. I have no time to make small talk. I need an evac.”

“Oh. Does this mean-“

“Oi, is that Genji? Need a lift, love? Come on, Winston!” Lena’s voice comes over loud and clear, “send us your coordinates, and we’ll pick you up!”

“Thank you,” he quickly relays the information and then, “I have two others with me.”

What he expects quickly dies. His evac amounts to little more than Tracer on the ground and Winston in the air keeping an aircraft cloaked from prying eyes and hovering just out of the current sphere of his location. But they make it to him quickly, no doubt in the area in the hopes of picking up the others. Considering that only Lena drops from the ship he assumes the recall has yet to pick up any steam.

“Cheers, love, the cavalry’s he-wait a tic, is that a Shambali monk? You shackin’ up wi-“

“My time is short, Lena, the explanations must wait.”

“Right. Heya, you comin’ with me then?” she turns and flashes a wide grin to the child then abruptly blinks out of sight, a bullet trail slicing through the spot she once stood, “we got company. Think you can handle your friend there while I get the kid to somewhere safe?”

“Yes,” he takes a breath and straightens his back. His brain informs him the rest of the preparations for battle have been successfully completed; his pops the panel on his forearm and takes his shuriken in hand. His blood rises. No matter what his appearance now, no matter how many muscle strands and tendons have been converted from sinew to steel adrenaline still crackles through him. The dragon hungers and whispers like wisps of smoke around his head.

“You willingly endanger your own to hurt me. _Then, let’s go_ ,” he sinks into a defensive stance, addressing the enemy in Japanese out of habit. They get the gist, anyway.

“If that kid’s hurt you’re even more dead than your friend there, Omnic.”

“They are fine, give it up.”

Murmurs sweep through the group but they hold fast. With their numbers so high individual logic has fled; they act as a unit. The one who fired accidentally has disappeared into the mass of people. Fear and the smell of spent rounds clogs the air. No room for logical thought here. He stops trying to comprehend their actions, just reacts to them.

They have some sort of heavy artillery; something akin to a Bastion unit, but not quite. A shame for them. He lets three shuriken fly, one for each man. They cartwheel through the air as though in slow motion-merely slow for him-just as they begin fire. Shells tear through the air, the red laser sight trained directly upon him. He scoffs, his blade drawn before they make it even halfway to him. The bullets bounce off, deflected by the edge of his sword. They cry out as the shuriken hit them, each receiving one in the arm he judged as their dominant one.

“I expected a challenge,” he calls out. Idiots. They cannot even tell he outclasses them, big gun or not. A smile tugs at his lips as the last bullet pings off of his sword.

Over-confidence, as his Master says often, is a flimsy shield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately for Zenyatta I am a kind of person who is like "this person is my favourite ............they must be horribly injured" LOL. 
> 
> I enjoy Genji going on a full out rampage when Zenyatta is injured, but I also think that if he really wants to embody what he has been taught then he won't just immediately fly off the handle and start killing. The dragon is every bit his actual spirit dragon and a representation of the anger inside of him, and it's something that he really has to try hard to control some days, but with Zenyatta's teachings he is mostly successful at doing so. 
> 
> The OCs are officially over with haha you can all breathe a sigh of relief!


	7. Chapter 7

He spots the grenade half a second too late. He acts swiftly. Retaliates. Hits them between the eyes with a shuriken. Covers Zenyatta as he did for the human child. Pain explodes across his back and arches across his body in shocks. His visor goes dark. Arms, legs, rebooting. Some kind of EMP. They expect him to fall. His organic parts, though damaged, take over.

Genji laughs, his vision turning red from alerts and rage in equal measures. The human lies in a crumpled heap, twitching, the others nurse their own wounds but then a roar bursts forth. He realizes what he has done. One arm comes back online. One leg, two legs.

“Ride’s waitin’!” Lena calls-too far to see the body. He sheathes his sword and tucks his shuriken away. He throws his Master over his shoulder and runs.

It takes all of a minute for them to be aboard the airship but he cannot stop himself from watching as the view of King’s Row gradually narrows into nothing. No time now to think. He lays Zenyatta down on one of the padded benches at the side of the plane, carefully arranging him so that he will not roll off. He gives off only a miniscule energy signature like a failing pulse.  

“Got a little bit hairy down there,” Lena comments. She flits about the cabin, still grinning, eyes wild and breaths coming quickly.

“Yes.”

“This mean you’ve had it with ignoring Winston’s phone calls?” she comes to a stop in front of him, “he gonna be all right?”

“Has Angela responded?”

“Mercy? Mm, we got an email back. It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes either.”

“I see.”

She blinks to the front of the plane, “but I reckon Winston can help out your monk pal-come on, Winston, let me fly.”

“I’ve never worked on an Omnic before,” Winston glances from her to where Genji sits. The plane dips slightly and he quickly returns his focus to the front window.

“Come on, you made my chronal accelerator, how hard can it be? You’re a genius, Winston” she whines, draping herself over the back of the pilot seat dramatically, “Winston.”

“You just want to fly the plane.”

She bounces on her heels, “I won’t put it into hyper, promise and besides I’d really like to meet a Shambali monk so I’m being real generous giving up the opportunity.”

He groans, “I’ll take a look. But no promises, Genji.”

He nods, “very well. They were utilizing EMPs, some firing on their own kind. There was a flash of light. I barely saw anything.”

Winston pushes his glasses up on his nose, “There’s no telling how extensive the damage is without hooking him up to my system. He has no protection from EMPs?”

“Can you do anything?”

“Not here, I don’t have the tools, and even if I did-“

“I understand. No promises.”

“Right,” he trails off, then looks to Genji, “you’re not looking too good yourself.”

“I repaid his favour. It was a grenade. Just recoil damage; it bounced off of me before detonating. A minor EMP, they expected me to be fully electronic.” 

“Hmm. Wait a minute, I think I can come up with a temporary solution until we reach the Watchpoint.”

He is not unfamiliar with the means of repairing himself, or Zenyatta, but going to Angela or the odd occasion Torbjörn for repairs has made him complacent and the Shambali did not believe in violence; their repairs had been minor. If he had been fast enough. If he had not let Zenyatta stray from his sight-he clenches his hand into a fist, sending a spurt of coolant splashing against the wall of the craft.

As he turns his back to Winston he closes his eyes. He plays back the sound of his Master’s voice telling him to calm his breathing and does so. The alerts begin to fade along with his thoughts and then.

“What’s the beeping about?”

“Hariyo,” he supplies, though neither of them know the context. His eyes snap open and his hand flies to his _Wakizashi_. His fingers curl around the Tamagotchi and unclip it from him. Somehow, it has no damage. A weapon targeted towards Omnics, then. Part of him calms as he clicks through the options despite the realization, “a Tamagotchi.”

“Oh, I had one of them as a kid! Never could keep it alive longer than a day though,” Lena says from the cockpit, “that one of them new ones?”

“I had it in my youth, its name means green.”

“Original,” Winston murmurs. It doesn’t sound malicious, and Genji continues.

“It belongs to Master Zenyatta.”

“Ah. Guess the name uh. Makes sense.”

“How long’s it been alive then?”

“Since I gave it to him. Three months and a half,” he gets out before Lena positively shrieks in disbelief.

“Three months? How?! Think he’d take care of one for me if I asked?”

“Master Zenyatta is very kind,” he stares at the screen where the creature wiggles in delight. “I do not know what happened to its brother, but I imagine he would welcome a new charge.”

“I’m gonna find mine, and then...”

Her optimism that Zenyatta will make a full recovery bolsters his mood slightly as he continues caring for Hariyo. Hanzo never passed up an opportunity to call them childish, but Genji often caught him looking on with what could have been envy; any offers to give him one resulted in a fight, however.

With the thought of his brother his focus shifts to his surroundings. His call guarantees they think he will join their cause but his mind remains a flurry of conflicting thoughts. Joining Overwatch brings only the possibility that he will again cut down someone on the opposite side of the conflict, but he doubts that once he joins that he will be able to leave. Zenyatta may not follow him, and it will be back to square one. Back to himself before Overwatch disbanded. Maybe that is the best he can hope for-being a weapon.

“You’re uh, patched up for now. Athena should be able to help me once we get back to base, so try not to worry too much,” Winston says loudly, as though making sure that Genji hears him this time then mutters to himself, “try not to worry, when does that ever help.”

“Thank you, Winston, I appreciate your assistance.”

“Comin’ up on home now, lads, hold onto your butts!”

Lena’s landing, while perfect in that they don’t burst into a fireball, leaves something to be desired for the nerves. She pulls down into a tight spiral and pulls them back out of it just as quickly to land them directly in the centre of the landing pad.

Winston clenches his hand around one of the straps hanging from the ceiling and pushes his glasses back up his nose with his other shaking hand, “that’s why I don’t let you drive.”

She laughs raucously while she shuts the plane down then appears in front of Genji, “let’s get your pal to the med bay while Winston gets ready.”

Knowing that Zenyatta feels no pain does nothing to help the quick beating of his heart as he gathers him in his arms but his systems wrench that from him, slowing his heartbeat to something closer to normal. Still, the lights on Zenyatta’s head, while dimmed slightly, still shine and flicker as his systems relay information between them even in sleep mode. Perhaps the EMP damaged only his movement related functions. His body appears unharmed, but something is damaged; something is overloaded.

He steps into the Watchpoint and halts. If he listens carefully he hears the ghost of Reinhardt’s laughter, the debates between the three founding members of Overwatch, and McCree’s southern twang in the now empty halls.

Lena looks back at him, smiles, “kinda weird being back, isn’t it? Still remember the way?”

“I practically lived there for 6 months,” he begins walking again, “I remember.”

A fine layer of dust coats Angela’s equipment; his mind supplies an image of her scrubbing her hands over her tired face and sighing. He brushes one of the examination tables off and lays Zenyatta down. Seeing him laying like this tugs at something in his brain, like stepping into his old room, or standing beneath the cone of overhead lights at a gas station after dark.

“Hey, he’ll be all right,” Lena’s hand rests on his arm, “you know how Winston is; doesn’t wanna be too cocky.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, this’ll cheer you up. McCree’s comin’ in. Said he got into a bit of a tight spot over on a Hypertrain but he’s on his way.”

“That is good news. What of the others?”

“Well like Winston said, Mercy’s kinda waffling. Reinhardt is Reinhardt so I reckon he’ll be here before tomorrow. Tor might be coming but,” she glances down at Zenyatta, “well, that’s about everyone, isn’t it?”

The pain in her voice cannot escape him. He nods, solemn, “yes. That is everyone.”

“Anyway, we’re well on our way to being a team again.”

He nods, “I cannot promise Master Zenyatta’s participation.”

“Wouldn’t be worth much as heroes if we only picked up people who were useful to us, would we?” she wipes off a few things, but doesn’t manage to fully clean anything off.

“I suppose not.”

Winston comes in a minute later, laden with tools and a tablet, “I just got a message from Reinhardt; he’ll be here in an hour with Torbjörn so.”

“Right, I’ll run interference before Tor gets all squirrelly. You comin’ Genji?”

“Master Zenyatta has stood at my side during my times of need, I will do the same for him.”

“Be back later then!” she disappears through the door with a slight whistle as she moves leaving he and Winston alone.

“I’m going to have Athena run some diagnostics, think you can wait?”

A twinge of pain arcs across his back, “Deal with Master Zenyatta first.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact I wrote this part about?? 3 months ago, so looks like my thought that not ALL of Genji was robot was right haha! Though I was a bit more generous with the human bits than canon. It's not that important so I didn't change it.
> 
> Winston is awkward as hell so the comment about Hariyo was intended to be a friendly jab but then...LOL. How embarrassing! :'D
> 
> The feeling of standing in his old room or at a gas station at night is a reference to liminal spaces, which, "coincidentally" Zenyatta is kind of in too. These kind of places are kind of lonely and eerie and seeing Zenyatta injured has kinda knocked Genji sideways, poor things who would ever do that to them? :p 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> As always if you ever want to talk about Genyatta or OW in general you can find me over on tumblr at haku23 :)


	8. Chapter 8

Hariyo wakes him from a restless sleep with its urgent beeping some hours later. A note from Winston sits beside him. _Catching a nap in my lab. Everything is stable for now. Call if you need me._ He sets it down then unclips Hariyo before checking what the creature needs. Food; his own fuel reserves are low, he will have to get something to keep himself at maximum efficiency though the idea of eating holds little appeal.

The being on the screen is clearly one that comes from proper care; he recalls the user manual that came with it and the various levels the final “alien” can achieve. He never managed to keep one alive long enough to reach the end-but of course his Master did.

“It will be all right,” he tells it, cupping it in his hands as Zenyatta often does as though it feels comforted by the action, “he will be all right.”

He lifts his gaze to the exam table. Wires extend out and across it, but the sight brings him little in the way of shock. A turquoise screen casts a blue sphere of light over Zenyatta’s still body. The lights on his forehead blink, trading information with Winston’s diagnostic system.

“Agent Genji, would you like a status update?” a female voice asks. She is non-organic, he can tell.

“Please.”

“Winston and I have managed to repair the connections between his systems so he should have no trouble functioning physically when he wakes up. He’s stable, but uh-“

The verbal tic speaks to Winston’s involvement in her creation. It makes dread pool in his stomach; Omnic or not, the brain is the core of operations both physical and mental.

“Basically, his movement is unaffected, he should function without any trouble in that regard but his internal systems, his ‘brain’-we can’t accurately measure the damage there.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

If he hadn’t been so foolish, so sure of himself none of this would have happened. If he had stayed closer he might have gotten there in time to lessen the damage. _You will never amount to anything_. Perhaps his brother had been right.

No, Zenyatta’s face seems to say even now when he is silent.

He leans forward and rests the side of his faceplate against the exam table. He does not know if Zenyatta will hear him speak, and so he stays quiet. The orbs that hover around Zenyatta’s head now lay flush against his chestplate and against the table like a frame of flowers, like a funeral wreath. Genji breathes. He lets himself think that. He lets it go.

Reinhardt arrives in the morning, late due to an “issue” with the transport of his equipment. Even in the medbay he hears his booming voice calling out to Lena and Winston and then the subsequent window rattling crying. Happy tears, Reinhardt keeps saying, happy tears.

Genji remains in the medbay, switching between watching the blinking of Zenyatta’s lights and Hariyo’s bizarre movements. He meditates but it amounts to little else but sitting with his eyes closed and breathing, hoping that his thoughts will give him even a moment’s peace. He is 25 and waiting outside of Michiko’s house, throwing pebbles at her window and hoping she forgives him enough to stick her head out to tell him to climb up to her room.  

People arrive in a steady trickle over the following weeks. McCree, a DJ, a girl who rides around in a bright pink robot like an anime character. Zenyatta remains sleeping, but alive. Winston comes and goes, but mostly he speaks with Athena. Sometimes he ventures out of the medbay, but not often. _I am accompanying you on your path; not becoming it_ Zenyatta says in the memory; as though he knew, as though he thought he might suffer the same fate as his brother. The thought nips at his heels as he does his daily routine but he cannot ask Zenyatta’s thoughts, and so he goes in circles.

~~**~~

“So I gotta ask, anyone else see a green cyborg ninja around here or am I just goin’ crazy?” ‎Lúcio asks over breakfast, “cause I thought it was the jetlag at first, but I’ve seen them a couple times.”

“No way, I’ve seen them too. Is it an Overwatch ghost?” D.va looks around like she might spot them.

“I’d wager that’d be Genji,” the cowboy-McCree?-replies, taking a sip of his gross, sludgy coffee he makes every morning, “not a ghost.”

“Genji? That’s awesome. A for real ninja? Song material right there.” He starts arranging it in his head already; maybe not a healing song, but everyone needs a theme to really bring them all together as a team.  

“Mm hmm.”

“You must know him then, right McCree?” D.va leans over the table, “you have to tell us about him.”

“Yeah, come on, we gotta hear the background story.”

“Now hold your horses, I ain’t tellin’ nothin’ about no one without their say so.”

“Ugh, old people are so boring,” she pouts and leans back into her chair. ‎Lúcio does the same, staring at McCree. It’s childish, sure, but if there’s a real life cyborg ninja running around he wants to know about it.

“Sure are,” McCree takes another sip of his coffee before he gets to his feet and dumps the rest down the drain, “well, I’m gonna mosey on back to my room. Don’t you kids get into any trouble now.”

“Kids? _Kids_?” ‎Lúcio holds a hand to his chest in mock outrage, “man, rude.”

McCree tips his hat to them both and swaggers out to the hallway. His spurs jingle as he walks. ‎Lúcio can fault him for calling him a kid, but he can’t deny the guy’s got a dedication to his aesthetic most people can’t even touch.

With the hour as early as it is only he and D.va are in the kitchen. And Athena, but she’s less of a physical presence and more like an omniscient robot guardian-also a good theme for a song. It lends perfectly, therefore, to planning to meet the cyborg ninja.

D.va arranges a large square of napkins and pulls a marker out of her pocket, “okay, so here’s the kitchen.”

Despite knowing her track record with being a badass when she draws out a map of the base and marks each room they’ve seen the cyborg ninja with an x he grins; she really _is_ a badass. The spot gets two x’s if they’ve seen him there more than once.

“And here’s all the places we’ve spotted him. I see him mostly super late. He’s moving in a pretty standard pattern, probably a daily routine or patrol.”

“So all we gotta do is be where he is at the same time.”

“Exactly,” she grins in a slightly terrifying way, “and then ... we ask him politely what’s up.”

“Right, we start slow. A ‘what’s up’, instead of ‘damn, dude, you’re cool’.”

“Totally. Okay, we’re on,” she yawns loudly and abruptly behind her hand, “but after sleep.”

“After sleep,” he agrees.  

~~**~~

They follow him. ‎Lúcio-the DJ-and D.va-the pink mecha girl. They somehow manage to be everywhere he goes, forcing him to change up his schedule and routes. But they must keep track of his movements because as soon as he drops down outside for his evening meditation he hears music. The tune is muffled by headphones, but still audible to his ears. Then he must give them a proper challenge.

He dashes behind the watchtower and hears ‎Lúcio whisper about it. Even their quietist footfalls are like loud drums to him. He scales the tower with ease now that repairs to his circuits, with the assistance of Torbjörn, have been completed. He grins and slips out of sight.

They round the corner and D.va makes a frustrated noise, “where’d he go?”

“Damn, there’s more places to hide out here than I thought.”

Indeed, Genji thinks as he silently shimmies around the side of the tower. They start towards the other lookout, still oblivious that he follows them now. Time to clue them in. He launches himself up onto the catwalk, keeping low and out of sight as they start towards the stairs. They just step inside the stairwell when he lets himself fall, loudly, to the ground.

“Good evening,” he calls.

“OMG. ‎Lúcio!” D.va spins around. Genji leaps away.

“What?”

“Tell me you didn’t hear that!”

“What, the ninja?”

“Argh, take those headphones off for two seconds! I heard him say ‘good evening’!”

Genji laughs, making sure he does so loudly enough that they can hear him. ‎Lúcio yells. They get outside just as he clamours up the side of the building. He allows them to see a flash of green before he pulls himself up onto the catwalk again. He dashes towards the hallway connecting to the pathway that will take him towards the hangar.

“Up the stairs!” D.va shouts.

“Let me take care of this!”

‎Lúcio is faster than he anticipates, but not fast enough to catch him. He jumps, rolls off the edge and swings himself into the nearest room. Up the stairs down the hall. Across the gap in the pathway. ‎Lúcio yells, D.va speeds after them both; he can’t help but admire their commitment to catching him even if a quick look into the medbay half an hour ago would have easily ended their pursuit of him.

He makes it to the hangar and stops. Sits. They come up on him a few moments later, both slightly winded.

“Man, why’d you run?”

“Would you like the truth?”

“Yeah, obviously!” D.va says. She takes deep breaths, but they return to normal quickly, speaking to her fitness despite piloting a mech. 

“I wanted to mess with you.”

“Rude,” Lúcio breathes out. He crosses his arms over his chest, and frowns.

“Totally rude,” D.va agrees and echoes his posture. 

Genji laughs, “I am Genji. A pleasure to finally meet you both.”

“Oh it’s a pleasure all right. I’m-”

“Mr. ‎Lúcio Correia dos Santos. And you are Ms. Hana Song,” he gestures to each of them in turn, “you are an activist and musician, and you are a professional gamer turned MEKA pilot. Most impressive.”

“Show off.”

“If you know who _we_ are then how come we haven’t seen you around other than you know, stalking you?” D.va asks and continues with a toss of her hair, “you weren’t at the team briefing.”

“I was otherwise occupied.”

“Hmm.”

Hariyo beeps and he looks down, “just a moment.”

“Is that a Tamagotchi?” ‎Lúcio skates a little bit closer, his annoyance apparently forgotten in the face of something new. 

“That’s kinda meta,” D.va says, “in a good way.”

“He belongs to my teacher,” he replies and sets the Tamagotchi aside for the moment.

“Is your teacher also a cool cyborg?” they both lean forward slightly as they ask, eager for any kind of information that they can get. It is endearing, and he finds he cannot help the smile on his face. 

But he hesitates. No way to know how they will react to the news of an Omnic in their ranks; D.va using a mech means nothing for her thoughts on Omnics. Finally he answers a vague, “He is not a cyborg.”

“But he is cool, got it,” ‎Lúcio grins, “you guys ever stop to think how wild this is? I mean, what is this team? A cyborg ninja, a mecha pilot, a literal cowboy, it’s like we’re in a game or something.”

“It is not so strange if you have done it before,” Genji replies. McCree has truly embraced the cowboy look now, but none of them back then ever really counted as “normal”. Winston alone made sure of that.

“So you _were_ in Overwatch before; we knew it! We talked to Mr. McCree and he said “boy howdy y’all, I ain’t talkin’ about no one” but if he knew you...”

“Nah, nah, it was more like “y’all’d’ve”.”

Genji snorts, “he is very skilled, be glad he is on our side,” he puts on his best impression of Jesse’s drawl, “cause it’s high noon somewhere in the world.”

“He totally keeps talking about “high noon” and every time it’s 12 o’clock Ms. Oxton looks at him. What’s high noon?”

“Like, 12pm, right? Didn’t Flint say something about that in 8 Gun Killer?” ‎Lúcio rubs at his chin.

“Well y’all better hope you don’t find out,” Genji says just as something pings in his inbox, “I must go. Until next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio is my favourite character to play so I had to include him lol. D.Va is another favourite, and I think that she often get relegated to like "child of ___ character" so I wanted to have her be a bit badass too :p. I think she and Lúcio make a cute pair as friends or bf/gf but it's up to your interpretation how you want to see their relationship in this fic since they'll be making other appearances both together and apart.
> 
> I saw a post on tumblr that said that McCree probably won't go back to OW because of his criminal record(and he doesn't want to tarnish the already not great view of Overwatch) and all and in the context of the game lore I agree that that's probably what's going on, but in the context of this fic he's coming in lol. 
> 
> I'll do my best to include a time frame because there will be time skips now (since like, how many scenes can you write of Genji being sad lol) but for now it has, as said in the fic, been a few weeks since Genji and Zenyatta showed up at the Watchpoint, and a few days between Lucio and D.va planning to follow Genji and them actually doing it. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, see you next week!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early morning update because my sleep schedule is absolutely screwed up so better early than late, right? :p

When he steps into Winston’s lab he senses the tension. He sees the screens lit up, and what he sees on them makes fear settle in his gut. Photos of him attacking people plaster the blue holo screens and he straightens his back as Winston forces a smile.

“Hey, Genji. Sit down.”

He nods and does so; no need to say anything when the evidence sits before them both. No one else sits in the lab but them and Winston clears his throat before speaking.

“I haven’t shown anyone else these. I just want you to know they exist and uh, if you have any explanations or anything now would be a good time. I know this is from the thing in King’s Row, but,” he flips to another photo. He knows before he sees it what it will be.

The man lays in a hospital bed hooked up to more wires than he cares to count. Not dead. He swallows the lump in his throat.

“We don’t officially exist, but there are people out there who are whispering about it.  It’s uh, how we got Hana and Lúcio here...But this could be bad. Our contacts are asking for a statement,” Winston rubs his hand over his face as he continues, “his family is making a decision whether to take him off life support in 24 hours. We’ll go from there.”

“I apologize. I did not intend upon staying longer than needed, this was not supposed to affect you.”

“You didn’t?” he asks, plaintive, then he nods, “I mean, right. Of course. Like I said, uh, it’s a voluntary recall.”

“I am sorry, but this place, there are too many bad memories.”

“If you aren’t an Overwatch agent-“

“You do not have to worry about my actions. As soon as Master Zenyatta is well I will leave, and then you will not be required to do anything at all,” he says, and remains steadfast in the face of Winston’s plainly disappointed face.

“Right. But for the record-it was self-defence, right?”

“I am not the same man I was before; I do not kill indiscriminately.”

Winston nods, and slouches a little in his seat, “uh. I guess that’s all then.”

“I apologize; it was not my intention to come here at all, but,” he starts to say, then stops himself. It’s obvious why he’s here, and why he stays here so he doesn’t have to tell Winston that, “I wish you the best.”

“Thanks. I’ll uh, just take the necessary steps to remove you from the system; you shouldn’t be bothered by team emails anymore.”

“I understand.”

Even more awkward than his entrance is his exit. Winston says nothing, but his face hides little. Sitting amongst his screens and equipment he appears almost lonely; Genji turns his back on him before he says something he will regret. The lab door slides shut behind him and he heads for the Cliffside.

The man lying in the bed remains burned into his eyes even when he settles in the patch of grass behind the research station and shuts them. The wail of a ship at sea winds through the waves that splash against the rocks below, and the gulls that cry. But he lets the thoughts come to his mind and lets them flow past him-he could have landed a less harmful shot-perhaps a miracle will occur, however. He could have just ignored the man completely, but he chose to strike. The dragon whispers that he made the correct choice. Genji ignores it.

It is as though the beauty of this place mocks him. He had never noticed it before; the way the light turns the water into jewels, the warm air that blows across the cliffs, the nests of birds nestled in the sides of the rocks. Life goes on here, and he can only return to the one he sought to snuff out so carelessly. He cannot choke on tears anymore, and so he only bows his head and prays for the man’s soul like he prayed for his own, back when every nerve and wire and synapse felt made of his rage. He does not measure time, but when Hariyo beeps at him the sun has sunk low on the horizon. This too is nearly as beautiful as freshly fallen snow at the monastery.

Hariyo beeps at him again and he lifts his head and takes a breath before he reaches for the dancing creature. But instead of the usual beast he finds a new, childlike creature that is definitely not what he should be seeing unless.

He holds himself back from exclaiming out loud. Perhaps Tamagotchi cannot truly die, their consciousness much less than that of an Omnic, and yet. He stares at the tiny screen, he cannot take his eyes off of it. Had it happened when he spoke with Winston? Or perhaps earlier than that? He cannot remember him calling for Genji’s attention, except for that time a few hours ago. Had he not attended to him?

Hariyo cannot tell him, and so he can only feed him and watch as he dances, unbothered by anything at all. A simple life; Genji envies him.

\--

Jesse is an elusive presence despite his loud everything, but he finally finds him milling about the practice range after a half-hour search. He tips his hat as Genji approaches and smiles in the lopsided way that makes him look as young as he had been when they had met.

“Howdy.”

“Howdy,” Genji echoes and Jesse chuckles and holsters his revolver. The holo-targets cease their movements and then flicker into nothing entirely a second later.

“Lookin’ to practice? I was just finishin’ up,” he nods to the panel on the wall to start the simulation but Genji shakes his head.

“I came to speak with you.”

“Chattin’ with lil ol’ me, huh? What’s up?” he asks and though Genji wears his faceplate he sees Jesse appraise him, “need help with a body?”

The joke hits him where it hurts and Jesse holds up his hands a second later, “bad joke. You wanna sit, or is this a 3 second conversation?”

“If you need to sit for your bones, I will help you up,” Genji says with a tip of his head.

Jesse laughs and flops down on one of the nearby benches, “mighty kind of you.”

“Oh, I know.”

The laughter between them fades into silence and Genji finally sits on the bench opposite him. “You came back, after everything that happened.”

“Well, I dunno about you, but I ain’t got a lot of options on where I go. And hell, maybe I’m feelin’ a wee bit of nostalgia,” he grins and reaches into his pocket, “mind if I smoke?”

Genji shakes his head and they are quiet while Jesse strikes a match from his pocket and holds it to the tip of his cigar. It is a unique smell-matchstick and cigar smoke-and it fits Jesse perfectly. He takes a puff before he starts again, “you stickin’ around?”

“No.”

“Ah, came to remind me of all I’ll be missin’, I gotcha.”

“For old time’s sake.”

“Be sad to see you go; you ‘n me make a hell of a team,” he expels the smoke from his nose like a dragon and Genji tracks it rising up towards the air vent.

“I am not the same as I was, I know peace now.”

“Must be nice.”

“I reckon it is,” Genji says and Jesse barks out a laugh again.

“Keep it up and I’ll get the impression you’re makin’ fun of me.”

“Me? No.”

“You wanna fool around before you go?” he asks and turns his head towards him. He is joking, but Genji declines seriously.

“My heart belongs to another, forgive me.”

“Aw, well, that’s just my luck, ain’t it? Your monk buddy?” he taps his ash into his prosthetic hand and holds it there.

“Ah.”

“I ain’t about to tell nobody, so don’t you worry. Jesse McCree knows how to keep a secret.”

“I might have killed someone,” he says abruptly. Jesse raises his eyebrows then settles back into the bench.

“I ain’t about to throw any stones, my own house bein’ like it is.”

“Winston still recalled you despite that.”

He shrugs, “Got the impression we’re hurtin’ for members.”

“Experienced members.”

“Mm hmm. You got a plan after this?”

“I will go wherever Master Zenyatta is needed,” he replies. The sooner he wakes the better. They cannot go back to London, but they might be needed elsewhere. He has already submitted himself to the tide; wherever it might take him he will go.

“Guess there’s only one thing left to do then.”

Genji waits for him to continue.

“Get smashed outta our minds. You in?”

“I could use a drink.”

“Well hell, it’s settled then. I got a bottle of whiskey with our names on it.”

~~**~~

Jesse snores, lounged upright in the chair by the window, his hat tipped low on his face so that Genji cannot see his eyes. Alcohol has little effect on his brain anymore, but his stomach turns over as he lifts Jesse up onto his shoulder and lays him on the unmade bed. The whole room smells of booze and cigars, and the possessions Jesse do have are set carefully on the desk by the computer terminal. A bag hangs off the back of the chair, unzipped and ready for a quick exit; Genji recalls the feeling. He had lived out of his bag the first six months at the monastery, until he finally unpacked his few possessions. The same day he had stopped pretending to meditate with Zenyatta, and actually tried it. They had not spoken of it, nor the clothes neatly folded in the dresser, nor his swords laid out by his bedside.

He spots a picture of the old team and Angela, visiting from school, and Fareeha. He does not touch it, but his eyes stay glued to the photo. The edges are fuzzy and one of them torn off. Fine white lines run vertically and horizontally along the image; Jesse could have gotten a holo version of it, but there is only one person he knows more old fashioned than Jesse. He stares at himself and shakes his head at his cocksure pose-things had not been all bad back then.

After a moment he tears his eyes away. The past can stay there; he needs to move forward, and that means without Overwatch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That guy Genji shurikened two chapters ago: surprise, betch
> 
> Genji is a sad sack lmao but I meant it when I said "things are going to get worse before they get better"! The other old fashioned person Genji is referring to is of course Hanzo though I think McCree is less old fashioned and more just really committed to his aesthetic lol. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and see you next week! As always if you want to talk genyatta or overwatch in general I can always be found at haku23.tumblr.com :)


	10. Chapter 10

He wakes with a quick breath and sits upwards in his chair; he cannot remember the dream, but it will have been a bad one to wake him. A quick glance at the nearby medical equipment tells him it is about 3a.m. and despite that his stomach growls. He has not eaten since before his escapade with Jesse, and so his stomach will likely protest violently to anything. Still, he must eat, and sleep, and meditate even if he might rather do otherwise. A schedule soothes his mind and keeps even the smallest amount of Nepal with him wherever he goes. And, well, he is not a child any longer; he might be able to hold his breath until he gets what he wants were he so inclined, but while he does not need to eat much, he cannot live without food entirely.

And so he heads for the kitchen a few corridors away. This late no one else walks the halls and only the quiet, almost imperceptible hum of the air conditioning and his own soft footfalls accompany him. There may be new people here, but the kitchen is quiet. He still hears the ghosts from before. Jack Morrison chewing someone out, Gabriel Reyes dressing down Jesse, Ana Amari sighing into her tea. All of them dead now, all of them mere memories woven into the fabric of the Watchpoint.

As he heads across the span of the kitchen he reaches for the lights and hears a sharp, “don’t.”

It is D.va. He spots her lounging by the square of light cast by the microwave, her long hair pulled into a ponytail and some kind of patches stuck under her eyes.

“You are up late.”

She makes a non-committal noise while he searches the fridge for his meal. Genji cannot cook well, but Lena’s girlfriend does. She makes him-and Lena-their meals when she can, expressing a certain fear of hers that they will live off of cup noodles and takeout which, knowing Lena, is not far from the truth. It is a good thing for both of them that she is so often at the Watchpoint, and that Lena had been so quick to introduce them after he and Zenyatta arrived. Luckily he has not eaten all of the rice porridge from her last visit because he doubts his stomach’s ability to handle Reinhardt’s cooking right now even if he cannot taste it.

Just as he stands upright and the microwave timer reaches zero D.va lunges forward and jabs her finger into the button before it can make a noise. She clenches her fist in victory and tries to keep his laughter to himself. Inevitably, he fails and she turns to him, arms crossed over her chest.

“What? I hate the noise.”

“It shows.”

She takes her food and sits, and a minute later he joins her. They do not speak, not at first, she fully committed to shovelling down her leftovers and he fully committed to waiting until she leaves to begin to eat. She does not miss his lack of movement, but says nothing about it.

“So, you play games?” she asks once the last spoonful has been devoured. She glows in the light from his visor and he nods.

“I did, in my youth.”

“You still wanna play? Me and Lúcio play sometimes for charity and stuff.”

He has not played a game in years. His misspent youth had been a blur of arcades, clubs, and hotels and at the time he could not imagine a different life. Now he cannot imagine how he had ever thought that. “It has been awhile.”

She leans forward as though scrutinizing him, her finger taps against her chin, “So what? It’s like riding a bike. You seem like a _Street Fighter_ guy, am I right?”

“You are not wrong.”

“So you’ll come play. Lúcio plays sports too...if you’re. Into that.”

“I will think about it.”

“Send me an email when you make up your mind. You’ve got it, right?” she asks and gets to her feet, dish in hand.

“I have it.”

“Awesome,” she says. Her grin morphs into a yawn, and she starts towards the door, “you should get everyone to come. It’d be a team building exercise where I kick everyone’s butt. Anyway, ‘night.”

“Goodnight.”

He unclips his visor and the mouthguard then sets both aside. The porridge has gotten slightly cool, but he manages to take the first spoonful anyway. He mumbles a sutra under his breath; perhaps his stomach will remain as calm as his mind if he keeps his focus elsewhere. Only the idea that Jesse suffered just as much as he is about to soothes him; a terrible thought, but he will tell it to Jesse later anyway.

\--

“So then I said, ‘Mate, if you’re looking for a fight then you’ve got it’,” Lena says and sits back in her chair. Reinhardt’s laugh booms across the space and he uses the arm he has around the back of Torbjörn’s chair to jostle him.

Genji hangs back where Jesse stands by the door, but those three have little in the way of volume control. The television is on, playing the news of a break-in at Helix Security, but no one nearby faces it. The news is a rerun, and they have already begun talks of whether Overwatch will be officially or unofficially lending assistance; especially after the news comes out of possible terrorist attacks on the facility.

“Hell of a news story,” Jesse comments. He chews on the end of his cigar in lieu of lighting it, his back pressed firmly against the doorjamb.

“The world is a tumultuous place, as always.”

“Mm hmm. So, you uh, up for another drink?”

He turns to look at him, “I barely survived the first.”

“Now you’re just bein’ dramatic.”

“It is in my blood, I have no excuse,” he replies with a smirk that Jesse cannot see. It is easy with him, falling back into old habits, like he falls back into being comfortable here. But this is not his home, and soon Jesse will not be around. He feels a tug of something like regret-not everything about Overwatch had been bad, and Winston is not Jack Morrison.

“Well far be it from me to deny a man his heritage. You in or what?”

Between the worry for Zenyatta, his guilt, and the itch in his blood for a fight concern takes root. Jesse has never been a man without vices, but as he chomps at the cigar Genji registers the slight tremor in his hand.

“If you can beat me in the training room then I will join you.”

“An’ if I can’t?”

“Then I will record your antics and put them on Youtube,” he jokes. Jesse guffaws and tips his hat.

“Oh you’re on. Hope you’re ready to get shown up.”

“We will see.”

It becomes a team event. Winston mumbles about the need to stay in peak condition in case they need to deploy, but no one listens-Genji nods at him to show he has heard but he still prepares himself to win. Jesse would have taken no for an answer, and yet he cannot bring himself to back out now.

The training program springs to life, setting up ten holo targets each. They will be measured on accuracy and speed; the winner will be determined based on both. His artificial veins hum, and his heart beats just a little bit faster than normal for a little bit longer than normal. He takes a breath, and bows before he turns to his targets. The others call out encouragement for them both so that he cannot figure out what is meant for who.

“Now I ain’t about to go easy on you on account of us bein’ friends, Genji.”

“The thought never crossed my mind.”

A timer beeps once, twice, three times and then the targets begin to move. They have a pattern, but he does not need to see it to begin throwing shuriken. His brain analyses in the background, until the pattern appears and he throws a handful, each passing through the mark and lighting the area up red. Red like blood. He swallows and takes a step back. No one can see his hesitance, nor hear the way his breath turns ragged; they see only him stepping back and waiting for the score.

“SPLENDID!” Reinhardt bellows. The others clap, like he has done something amazing. The holograms are not people, but it only reinforces what he might do to humans if given the chance. He thinks of the Omnics back in King’s Row and their normal bodies. He feels the pinch of envy that he had not felt then. He lets himself feel it, but he cannot let go.

He does not hear as Jesse completes his round, but the way people shout Genji’s name tells him he has won. But what? He bows again and heads for the door.

\--

He walks the path of the Watchpoint and searches for the beauty he had seen before but sees only grey. Only uniform lines and regimented buildings. He tries to breathe. He counts his breaths and times them. He flicks through the news headlines. He tries to keep himself from slipping-he cannot rely on Zenyatta to keep him centred forever, and yet he has to stop walking to calm his heartbeat. If he could only speak to him. If he could only tell him what he saw before, if he could only hear the soft tune of his meditation, if he could only tell him what he had done and get Zenyatta’s disappointment in him out of the way then he might yet be able to grasp the edges of his control. But he cannot even say what might happen if he simply surrenders to the darkness that swirls around him and so he cannot.

“Heya, what’s up?” her voice breaks through the static in his head and he realizes he stands in the middle of the crossroads in the corridor between the barracks and the medbay. He does not even know where he had been heading.

“Not now, Lena.”

“Winston told me what happened.”

He bites back what he really wants to say and lets his shoulders drop, “then you understand why I am not staying.”

“Nah,” she says. Her hands are shoved into her pockets, and she leans against the wall. She does not wear her chronal accelerator, but he does not ask why not. “Just mean, we’ve all done things we regret. But we can’t turn our backs on the world now, not when it needs us.”

It is simple for her to say that and mean it, but she is not the one who will be deciding his fate and this is not a case of someone dying while they are on a mission. “The world needs people like _you_.”

“People like _us_. The world can always use more heroes. Always.”

She delivers the line with so much conviction he can almost believe it. He shakes his head. “I am sorry. But not this time.”

She slumps, but he can tell that she has not given up. She is more stubborn than Hanzo, though in a better way. “If you change your mind...”

“You will do good and I will cheer you on.”

“Thanks, luv,” she says and recovers some of her vigour, “Think McCree’s lookin’ for you, keep an eye on him, yeah?”

Genji hums, “I will do my best.”

She is nearly halfway down the hall before she turns and yells, “Oh, right, Em’s comin’ in on the weekend so if you need anything just let me know!”

“I will.”

He looks up at the painted letters of the signs and sighs. He heads to the medbay; Jesse will have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just a personal headcanon of mine that Genji has a very sensitive stomach now(though in canon he might not even have one lol) so he basically just eats old man food all the time lmao. Like, he could eat ramen but it would come with Consequences. Who usually cooks for him? I wonder~ haha... 
> 
> Also it might be obvious but yes, McCree does have a Problem. I'm not going to delve into it much for personal reasons, but I think it's a pretty big part of his current character arc in canon so I didn't want to leave it out entirely. 
> 
> We're still in the hurt portion of this hurt/comfort scenario but don't worry, the sun always comes out after a storm :). 
> 
> Thanks for reading as always, friends <3\. Hit me up on haku23.tumblr.com if you want to chat!


	11. Chapter 11

The sun has just begun to rise when Genji sets aside his book at the sound of the door sliding open. It surprises him little to see D.va and ‎Lúcio; they are about the only other people who are regularly up to all hours of the night and he doubts they have been to sleep yet. “You have finally found my hideout.”

“Gotta admit, kinda disappointed in the lack of ninja themed decor,” ‎Lúcio says. The pair of them survey the area as though it might actually be some manner of hideout, but after a moment they pronounce the place “surprisingly boring for a ninja hideout”.

“Definitely 2 stars on Telp.”

“Definitely.”

It takes all of two minutes for them address the elephant-or rather, Omnic-in the room. ‎Lúcio looks at D.va. D.va looks at ‎Lúcio. She speaks first, “so is that your teacher?”

All of the ways he thought of explaining flee from his mind, leaving him scrambling for some kind of answer that will put them from asking more questions. His silence speaks volumes, however. They nod.

“Cool.”

“You,” he begins-the atmosphere differs from King’s Row, it is as though he stands on an ice rink without any skates, “are not bothered by that?”

“Why would it bother us?” ‎Lúcio asks, finally slipping his headphones off of his ears. A tune plays quietly in them and strangely, his thoughts calm at the sound. It differs greatly from his Master’s harmony orbs in form, but the function appears similar.

“Not everyone feels the same,” Genji says, staring at Zenyatta’s prone form and thinking as always of the night in King’s Row. Of the man who may be dead now. Of the family who may be grieving a loss.

“True, Torbjörn is kind of gross about Omnics,” D.va wrinkles her nose, “but I think he’s getting better.”

“So what’s up with him? He ok?”

“He was injured before we came.”

“Oh, hey, you want me to try my healing song?”

“It’s actually really amazing, Genji.”

“I...suppose it could not hurt,” he agrees, and then, “what is a healing song?”

“It’s just-you ever hear of Synaesthesia? It’s like, you perceive stuff differently like your name is totally purple to me.”

“I do not understand, but you are saying it works similarly to that?”

‎Lúcio hums, “kinda. I used this uh, one-hundred percent not stolen tech to transfer what I see and feel when I write my music into the system and it’s kinda weird, but it works. Maybe not quite the same as you know, the Caduceus system, but works in a similar way. Here, listen.”

‎Lúcio holds out his headphones for him to take and Genji holds it up to where his audio receptors are. The song sounds like EDM, nothing like anything he ever listened to back in the day but somehow it settles into his skin and he sits back in his chair. The tension drains from him and ‎Lúcio grins.

“See it changes how your body picks up music-it’s already proven a good song can help you chill out but with this it’s like bam, a hundred times better. It transfers it to the physical realm, you know? Course I haven’t had any time to really study it like scientifically or anything but like my ma always said-if it works it works, right?”

He nods, his eyes threaten to close on him so he pushes the headphones back into ‎Lúcio’s hands, “it will not hurt to try.”

“Cool, I’ll put it on the speakers.”

D.va sighs and settles into a chair, “this is the best song.”

Genji cannot exactly disagree. The rhythm is soothing, like the prayer chants of the Shambali. He can almost feel the cold wind of the mountains blowing over him, and smell the frost in the air.

“This Synaesthesia; what does it do?” he asks finally. ‎Lúcio taps his finger against one of the pilfered chairs and shrugs.

“I don’t think it _does_ anything. It’s just a thing that happens. Like you see black as black, I see the colour according to the letter. Or like, sometimes the sound. This song is yellow.”

“That is… strange,” he admits. He reads his emails through his eyeballs, though, so he really cannot talk. He says so and ‎Lúcio laughs and grins.

“Kinda jealous, not gonna lie. It’s like the ultimate hands free thing.”

Technically, it is hands free. But he is not about to say that, though the music begins to knit the frayed parts of his mind back together-he can see the beauty in this.

“Genji?”

He jumps out of his seat. Zenyatta whirs softly as he rises, and he tips his head to the side, “greetings.”

“Yo. It _worked_!” ‎Lúcio all but screeches. D.va grabs him and they both do some kind of dance that Genji does not pay attention to because Zenyatta is awake, and his heart is thundering in his chest for a moment. He seizes his arms and inspects him; his visual sensors tell him that this is not an illusion, but he keeps wanting to pinch himself. He is shameless in his looking-he might have been embarrassed at any other time but now.

“My apologies, it seems I have caused you much pain again, my student.”

He cannot find words and so he just shakes his head. He wants to say something funny, something that will betray the storm within, but he has been struck dumb. He can only stare at him.

“You have been making friends, how wonderful,” he says as his hands come to rest upon Genji’s shoulders.

Finally he manages to speak, “You-you are all right? I should call Winston-“

“It is all right, I have been speaking with Athena. All is well.”

His chest is too tight all of a sudden, and he clears his throat to attempt to push away the itch there.

“Oh dear,” Zenyatta says quietly. One of his hands comes up to rest against Genji’s faceplate and he feels the tension bleed from him. It is really happening. He does not deserve it, but it is happening anyway. “Do not worry, I will tell you everything.”

He nods. He should not be so emotional, and yet. He is 5 and standing at the cemetery; he understands what death means, but it does not feel real. He presses into the touch and Zenyatta hums and does not pull away.

“I felt the warmth of the Iris flowing through me all at once. I have touched it before, you have seen it, but this. It was. Transcendental. Every one of my systems felt alight, and so warm. It was as though I stood on a Cliffside, bathed in light, and everything I could ever think or feel or do was…stronger. But my body is not equipped to handle that much input so quickly; my processors were quite overwhelmed,” he says it with a giddy laugh that Genji cannot echo. All he hears is ‘I almost died’.

“You said you would not do anything foolish.”

“I could not do nothing in that moment, even if it would have prevented your pain. I hope you will understand my actions,” he says. His orbs rotate in a slow circuit around his head, and the healing song continues to play over the speakers. He calms, somewhat. Zenyatta is right. The child might have been hurt or killed had he done nothing, but it does not fully calm his worry.

“You are not still injured?” he asks as he rakes his eyes over him in search of any kind of hint that he is not functioning as he should. He sees nothing, and Zenyatta shakes his head.

“I am not. I am perfectly all right. What have I missed?”

Hariyo beeps and Genji jolts. He pulls his hands back and picks up the Tamagotchi. Its new, smaller form dances at him and Zenyatta brightens.

“Oh, you have taken your charge very seriously I see.”

“Master, I-“

“Ah, I knew it,” he says. Genji looks up to meet his gaze and Zenyatta continues, “Now you are so attached to him you cannot possibly return him to my care, is that it?”

He shakes his head and unclips the toy from his hip before he hands it over. He waits for the question, but it does not come.

“Have you missed me?” he asks Hariyo instead of asking Genji why he has gotten so small all of a sudden. He continues to wait for him to ask, but he does not, and so Genji has to tell him.

“He died.”

“How exciting that we will be allowed to see him grow again.”

“Master, I did not care for him well enough. That is why he died,” he replies, and manages to keep the incredulous tone out of his voice but only barely.

“Is it punishment you seek?”

Someone coughs, and Genji realizes at once that Lúcio and D.va still stand behind them, though they have mostly just become very interested in their phones and the medical equipment across the room.

“I should introduce you,” he steps aside and they rush him before he gets a chance to speak.

“I’m Lúcio!”

“I’m D.va, but you can call me Hana, or D.va is good too just to stay on brand.”

“What lively friends. A pleasure to meet you both, I am Zenyatta.”

It strikes him at once that in chronological years, he is the oldest, and yet it must seem to them that Zenyatta is the older of the two of them. Of course, they do not know Zenyatta well enough to see his young side.

“You seriously feel okay? Cause I gotta admit I was worried for a sec that I was about to look like a weirdo, going around talking about healing songs,” Lúcio admits as he gets closer.

“You’re part of the Shambali, right?”

“I am quite all right, and I suppose I am in many respects one of the Shambali, yes.”

Lúcio makes another triumphant noise, “I am on _fire_!”

“It was Lúcio’s healing song which brought you back from your sleep, Master,” Genji explains and Zenyatta bows his head.

“Then I must thank you. I suppose I, as they say, owe you one.”

“You’re totally joining Overwatch, right, Zenyatta?”

“Yeah, you gotta, and then you can convince Genji to,” D.va shoots him a pointed look and he had only been taken off the cc list, he hadn’t expected anyone to notice.

“I am afraid I can only speak for myself. I will need to think on this further before I answer.”

He expects her to protest, or push, but she just nods, “you should stick around until you figure it out. Lúcio, shouldn’t we go do _that thing_?”

“That- _oh_. Yeah. _That_ thing, right. Yeah. Nice meetin’ you, Zenyatta.” 

They tear out of the room like they are on literal fire, taking themselves and the healing song with them. Athena comes over the speaker before his nerves return, and begins a diagnostic “just in case”, and so he does not speak. He only watches as Zenyatta humours her requests.

The procedure is only a few minutes long, but the silence stretches out between them until Genji opens his mouth to fill it. There are things he must tell him, before it is too late.

When the door to the medbay slides open again he expects D.va or Lúcio coming back for a forgotten item, but instead.

“Genji, hello,” Angela says. She carries a few bags that leave her sagging with the weight of them and so he crosses the room to help her. Her blonde hair is as tied up, and her skin bears the obvious tan of someone who has spent months in the sun. She smiles, then catches sight of Zenyatta, “that must be Mr. Tekhartha.“

“Dr. Ziegler, what excellent timing. I have only just woken from an extended slumber,” Zenyatta exclaims. He steps down from the table and walks-a strange enough sight-to take her other bag, “it is a pleasure to meet you in person.”

She follows them as they set her bags nearby, her face twisted into a lightly pained expression, “Ach, no need to carry my things, I have only come from the helipad.”

“Nonsense. Where there are helping hands available one should make use of them. If you will excuse me, I believe I owe many people my attention,” he says with a bow of his head. Genji nearly reaches out for him, but Zenyatta smiles and heads for the door as though he is doing him a favour. He can see where he might get the impression-he and Angela are no strangers to frequent correspondence, and perhaps in a different life he might have appreciated the gesture, but now he feels only adrift as he stands alone in the medbay with her.

“You are looking well,” she tells him. He turns his head towards her and nods.

“You as well, Angela.”

“I did not expect to see you here,” she says, her tone soft as she slowly walks along the space, “there are so many…Memories.”

“Your appearance is just as unexpected. I had heard you were hesitant to return.”

Her fingers light upon each piece of equipment and she says nothing for a moment, her expression unreadable as she replies, “I have been. But I must go where I am needed.”

“Are you needed?” he asks, then amends, “I mean, you do not have to be here if you do not want to be.”

“I know.”

They say nothing, and yet he knows they see a similar vision. What might have been, what has been up until now-they see the same ghosts.

“You do not have to be either, Genji.”

“I do not plan on staying. I only came because Master Zenyatta was injured,” he says and feels the full weight of his guilt come crashing down upon him. He had used Winston and Lena; used their optimism for his own gain.  

“I see. I hope that you will still write.”

“Of course. I cannot burden Master Zenyatta with all of my thoughts.”

She smiles at him, her voice still soft as she says, “you are not a burden to me.”

“Nor you to me,” he nods, “excuse me, I must see that Master Zenyatta does not get into any further trouble.”

“Yes, of course. If you need me I’ll be here.”

She says it with a kind of finality. As though shackled here, and yet he knows she could never be free. It would not feel like freedom to her at all. In his youth he spoke of it derisively-“married to the job”- but now he sees it for what it is. Drive. Dedication. Persistence. She has her place and knows it-he cannot help but envy her just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, amirite? The Transcendence thing is a headcanon of course. It's not that I think that Zenyatta is frail, but that it's one of those things like people can lift a lot... but sometimes in a time of dire need they can lift cars. It's not something sustainable for him, and not something he expected to happen to that degree either obviously. 
> 
> The Synaesthesia thing is just another headcanon since the album is named Synaesthesia Auditava lol. His show(with his uh... permanently borrowed tech) would let people see what he sees. 
> 
> As for the mention of Gency, I think denying that they have a good relationship would be silly and y'know? Just because you like someone as a friend or admire them doesn't mean you want to get with them romantically, so I see no need to lessen their relationship or interaction. :>
> 
> ANYWAY thanks for reading as always and thanks for sticking around this long <3.


	12. Chapter 12

He thought that finding Zenyatta would be simple. He knows these halls better, and Zenyatta moves much slower than he, and yet. And yet. He turns down another corridor and finds it empty. He glances into another room and finds it devoid of people, but full of what appears to be old, outdated equipment. He sighs. Perhaps he is being avoided. Perhaps his outburst at the medbay had been too embarrassing-no. Zenyatta has never dissuaded him from expressing any emotion he might have.

But perhaps he might think Genji too forward with how he grabbed him. He wants to laugh at himself, at how foolish he is being, but he cannot manage it. After all, Zenyatta is usually the one who touches him, the conversation of what is acceptable a well-worn one between them.

He takes a breath to centre himself. Where might he go if he were Zenyatta? To Winston, perhaps, Athena is bound to have spoken to him about him. He addresses the AI now, and she tells him what he suspects. Winston might not tell him what happened in King’s Row, but he also might have to. Genji heads for his lab anyway-if he is lucky he might catch the conversation and be able to explain himself. But there is so much that he has to tell him. All of it hits him at once-he has never been so secretive with Zenyatta before now.

“GENJI!” Reinhardt’s voice booms through the hallway. He stops walking, though he would rather continue. He turns and sees him grin, “My friend, I ask for a moment of your time.”

“Of course. What is it?”

Reinhardt is not so straightforward with the conversations about touching-he grabs everyone, including Genji right now and slings his arm around his shoulders even though he must hunch a great deal to do so.

“I was impressed by your performance the other day. But you seem troubled.”

“Ah. I. Am not.”

“I have heard the news that you will be leaving us,” he says, his voice lower but still louder than most people’s as he leans closer, “I have seen the news. What happened, you know that we must protect our own.”

“Perhaps.”

“I would leave none alive who brought harm to Brigette.”

He nods, but he would rather flee. Reinhardt’s is a sentiment shared by many people, but he can think only of how he might have avoided the bloodshed, it is all he has dreamt of since getting here and all that he will dream of for some time.

For a moment they say nothing, and then Reinhardt releases him with a shake, “keep in touch, my friend.”

“I will.”

When he finds Zenyatta he is just stepping out of Winston’s lab. He reaches out and Genji finds he cannot move. He does not deserve forgiveness, he decides, no matter what Zenyatta has said to him or will say to him now.

“You are walking,” he says instead of the other words on his artificial tongue.

“Athena asked that I do so just to insure that there was no lasting damage to my circuits,” he takes a step closer. Upright he is taller than Genji and the realization knocks him even more off kilter, “what is troubling you?”

He cannot meet his eyes. It is as though he looms over him, judging, though he knows the thought is a foolish one. “There are. Many things I must tell you, Master.”

“Of course. Shall we go somewhere more private? I would like to see the place you spent so much time,” he agrees then points to Genji’s elbow, “may I? I find myself slightly unsteady.”

“Yes, of course.”

Zenyatta is still whirring quietly as though his systems are working overtime as they walk towards the Cliffside-he says so and he nods.

“Indeed. My systems are still playing catch-up. Oh.”

“Master?” he stops their movement to look at him. The lights on his forehead wink and flash, and he does not speak for a moment. Even his orbs hang stationary in the air and Genji has to stand up on his tip-toes to try to meet his eyes. “Master.”

“It is-there is,” he says as though deep in thought. And then he shakes his head, “no. Do not worry, I suppose I am still sleepy.”

“You are certain?” Genji asks and realizes he is close again, closer than he ought to be, but Zenyatta does not pull away, “Master, you should not push yourself so hard so soon.”

“I am all right. How lucky I am to have such an attentive student. Please, let us continue.”

He nods, and they do so, but he cannot help but continue to watch him for any sign of distress as they step out onto the dirt of the Cliffside. The wind is gentle right now, and the sun has just begun to rise into the sky.

“How lovely. Have you been using this as your meditation spot?”

“I have. It reminds me of the mountains.”

Zenyatta hums and they settle down on the ground. The boats are already out on the water and he sees Zenyatta watching them for a moment before he asks, “Now, what is it that you need to speak with me about?”

“I. I have decided I will not rejoin Overwatch,” he says in a burst. It is like popping a pimple and the pus pouring out. It is like a dam breaking and the water rushing out over the land.

“You have thought long on this decision, then it must be the correct one. But where will you go?”

“I will go wherever you plan to, Master. London, America, Australia-it does not matter to me,” he speaks directly to him and Zenyatta nods.

“If that is what you wish. Though it seems a shame; you and Doctor Ziegler have just met again.”

“Master, I do not need you to play matchmaker.”

“My apologies, Genji. Mondatta might have disapproved of the Shambali forming relationships, but that does not mean that you must abstain as well.”

“That is not why.”

“Oh? Then I have misread the situation. I thought. Oh dear.”

He cannot help laughing even if it is hardly called for. It explodes out of him and he cannot stop himself once he starts even when Zenyatta lightly slaps him.

“I am trying to be your wingman, my student, and you have only laughter for my efforts.”

“My wingman!”

“Yes, is that not the correct term?” he asks. His voice lilts with barely restrained laughter and Genji leans against him, the beak of his helmet tapping against the length of steel that connects Zenyatta’s shoulder to the base of his neck when he tries to press his face into it. Zenyatta’s hand comes to rest upon his back and pats him as though soothing him.

“My wingman!”

“You seemed so heartsick, Genji, I could not help but think it was because of Doctor Ziegler. She is the only woman you speak to-despite the efforts of others.”

He sucks in a breath and lets it out. If it could, it would shake, but he remains steady and so he only sits there. Perhaps this is enough. It is not as though he and Zenyatta can be together in the same way two humans can, even if he knows vaguely that there are ways for some Omnics to be intimate.

“My eyes did not seek anyone, nor did my heart, Master.”

“Then I beg your forgiveness, I did not intend upon meddling in your love life. You are, of course, an expert in wooing after all,” he says, the smile plain in his voice even as he asks forgiveness.

“You will never let that go.”

“I will not. It is a cherished memory.”

“You mean it is easy ammunition,” he replies. He vents steam from his shoulders and pulls away. Zenyatta cannot see his face and yet he always feels laid bare before him, as though nothing can hide from his attention.

“Can it not be both?”

He leans his chin on his hand and looks out across the shimmering waves. His heart feels lighter here at least. Zenyatta sighs softly, content as well as he tends to Hariyo once again.

“May I say something?” he asks, once Hariyo is balanced among the rotation of his orbs. For a moment Genji holds his breath, and nods. “It is only, I am struck with how I have missed you. Of course, I did not realize it while I was sleeping, but now I wake to find you and I find myself quite aware of it.”

The admission leaves him silent, but Zenyatta does not take any of it back, he only relaxes into meditation and leaves Genji reeling from it. Of course he had missed him too, but Genji had not imagined that he might hear it. And yet now he wonders why he had ever thought that-Zenyatta is not at all witholding of his compliments. His shoulders lower and he realizes he had been tense, that it had been a thought in his mind that perhaps Zenyatta would wake and be ready to move on with or without him.

“Master.”

“Yes?”

“There was a man. I might have killed him.”

The words hang in the air for a moment before Zenyatta nods, “I am certain that you had no other choice.”

“I did. I acted without thinking; I could have prevented it,” he says, his body back to being heavy with the weight of the admission. The Shambali are quite clear about their feelings on killing-but Zenyatta is not entirely of the Shambali anymore. And he has proven more than one time that he does not always act entirely with logic when it comes to Genji-the feeling of course being a mutual one.

“I see. Then, what would you like me to say?”

He cannot give an answer. Zenyatta hums, “the past is the past, my student, and no matter how firmly we try to grasp it we can no sooner change it than we can put toothpaste back into the tube. Or so I am told.”

“I should not have done it, Master, his family will miss him and if I had only thought before I acted I would not have injured him.”

“You are correct. Now, has that changed the present circumstances?” he asks. His voice is challenging in the same way as it had been when they first met and Genji prickles at it-he had hoped not to hear it again, but it only proves that he has strayed from what Zenyatta has taught him. Shame curls in his gut and Zenyatta reaches across the space between them to rest his hand on Genji’s knee.

“You have punished yourself quite a lot, Genji. You need not do so any longer.”

“I have served no punishment.”

“What would be a fitting one then in your eyes? If you wish to be locked up then I am certain that you will find many willing to do so,” he replies, “what you did may be wrong, but it is not my place to judge you.”

“Maybe you should, Master.”

“To what end? Forgive me, Genji, but I cannot act the way you wish me to,” his hand remains on Genji’s knee, and he cannot hear any anger or judgement in his voice. It infuriates him, just as it had when he had been wandering in search of meaning. Zenyatta’s calmness rankles him; but he knows now why.

“I wish to punish myself.”

“Yes.”

“I thought I had learned, Master.”

Zenyatta nods and his gaze remains focused on Genji’s face, “the path to recovery is not a linear one, my student, but I hope that you will allow me to continue walking it with you as your friend.”

He seeks the same thing he had sought from others in his youth-look at me, praise me, be impressed by me. All of his actions had been a frenzied spectacle to keep eyes on him. He couldn’t be as skilled as Hanzo-even when he was-he could not be as worthy as Hanzo-even when he was. The Elders looked upon him as a burden, but it was only because he could not be manipulated as easily as Hanzo-he could never gain their approval and so he sought their fiercest disapproval instead. An unfortunate existence for he and his brother. And not one he need repeat with Zenyatta. He is not his father, and he would not wish that from him, nor would he wish for him to see him as the Elders do. He sighs. There is only one thing left that he must tell him.

“It is not punishment I seek from you, Master.”

“I am glad. What is it?”

He cannot think of what to say. Nothing seems enough. The words he can say will have to do, though.

“The world is dull without you, Master. All of the colour is gone, and I see only grey and red,” he says and Zenyatta pats his knee, “but now, I see everything with new eyes. They do not seek Dr. Zeigler. And they do not seek any other human, or woman.”

“I understand. You have what you ask.”

“I. Do?” his words hang in the air like tangible things, like birds floating suspended on the breeze, and yet Genji cannot understand how Zenyatta managed to get anything at all from his confession. He almost wishes to take the words back; perhaps this time he asks too much and yet Zenyatta only smiles.

“You have always had it, I only wished to wait for you to ask.”

“But. Why? Master-“

He laughs, “Genji, you can call me by name.”

He is not so formal as Hanzo; he cannot imagine using _keigo_ with a lover, but then Hanzo’s lover had been an arranged one. But he does not want to think about Hanzo right this second.

“Zenyatta, why not tell me?” he asks. The name without the title feels strange on his tongue, but he should get used to it sooner rather than later.

“You have not had someone who cares for your welfare for some time. I did not wish you to think my caring came only from romantic interest. Forgive me, I suppose that could be seen as ‘shady’.”

“All of this time. I needed only express my interest.”

“Oh dear.”

“Master!”

“I am not so experienced as you, Genji, in this instance perhaps I should be calling you Master.”

He vents steam and leans his face into his palms, “even back in London?”

“Before then. Ah, when was it... Perhaps...Ah, yes, in China. As I saw your face lit by the fireworks I was overcome.”

“Master that was-that was half a year ago!” he sputters. He wants to be angry, but it is not as thought Zenyatta has acted any differently towards him. They have always been physically affectionate, always been teasing one another once Genji settled into the routine at the Monastery. The other monks had looked upon them with the kind of fond exasperation reserved for those who cannot see the affection between them-he only recognizes it as such now.

“Yes.”

“What would you have done if I never.”

“You would continue to be my beloved friend, and nothing more or less. I did not yearn, Genji, I have always been perfectly content with what I have. I did not resign myself to waiting. Was I wrong? Is that immoral, I wonder?” he trails off, his fingers curled in a classic ‘thinking’ pose until Genji turns to him. Their bodies clank together as he presses against him, their foreheads meeting as Genji plants his hand on the earth beside Zenyatta’s folded legs.

“You are evil.”

“Am I? My apologies,” he says in the least convincing voice imaginable. His hand cups Genji’s faceplate, “Is it strange that my systems feel as thought they are overworked?”

“Like if you needed to breathe you might find it difficult?”

“Yes, exactly like that,” Zenyatta sighs as though put upon and relieved at the same time.

“You are overcome with affection for me, I cannot blame you,” he grins beneath his faceplate though the flesh fights him on it and Zenyatta laughs so uproariously that Genji might have felt embarrassed at his cockiness if he were not so pleased.

“I am, how right you are. Ah. Have you eaten recently?”

He cannot answer for a few moments as he combs through his memory. The encounter with Hana had been a few days ago, and he will need to eat soon to keep himself in good condition.

“I am not acting completely selflessly I am afraid,” Zenyatta admits. His thumb runs along the seam of Genji’s faceplate, “I would like to make sure that my time away has not jeopardized my cooking abilities.”

The movement of his hand is distracting, though he cannot feel it. Just the sight of it is enough for the moment; it is as though his nerves recall the feeling and so the skin hidden safely beneath metal tingles. He realizes after a few long, silent moments that he has not responded and clears his throat. “I would be happy to eat anything you would like to prepare, Zenyatta.”

“Wonderful. If you would show me to the kitchen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, right? I always wanted for Zenyatta to have been kind of like... "oh you mean we weren't dating before??" LOL but I thought that might be seen as manipulative which is obviously the last thing that Zenyatta is so I had a bit of mutual "pining" going on instead. 
> 
> We're nearing the end of this thing, folks! I thought of adding another subplot to this, but then realized that would take me farther into the rabbit hole of the team dynamics and plot not involving the romance than I really wanted to go lol. I might write it as a standalone fic at some point though! 
> 
> Keigo is like... super formal language. It's not typically used between lovers these days, but apparently some old people still use it with one another and some people find it cute lol. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
